Doubt
by TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo
Summary: A Browning Sister story, set before the Winchester Ranch series. A fun little hunting series inspired by a couple of songs. Get to know Serendipity Browning and why she became the warrior she is. I do not own Supernatural, but by Chuck, I do love to dabble. (OCs are mine.)
1. Chapter 1

:::Here we go again! Welcome back! _Doubt_ was a lot of fun to write, mainly because I love me a good Browning Sister story. I will give credit where credit is due: I drew a ton of inspiration from a few songs on this one. The two majors were _Baby Outlaw, _by Elle King and the other is, of course, _The Devil Went Down to Georgia, _by The Charlie Daniels Band. Thanks for reads! Let me know what you think.

Love and internetty hugs,

The Girl With The Dinosaur Tattoo:::

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Chapter 1

Serra

I stared at the ceiling and watched the headlights shine through the curtains, travel across the ceiling fan, and vanish as the car drove out of range on the highway. Holding what was left of the slug that had lodged itself in my sister's hip after trying to shoot the demons that attacked us; I considered the possibility of what could have happened if it had hit her in a different place.

Like her chest.

Or her stomach.

My sister could be dead because of me.

I sat up in bed and took a deep, ragged breath, clutching the lead slug in the palm of my hand. It would never happen again. Grace would never be at risk again because of me. I would make sure of it. I was her guardian, even though she was almost six years older than me.

I would be her warrior.

…

"Lady Luck, you can't be out here at all hours of the night," Daddy greeted me quietly.

I lowered my guns and turned, wondering how he found me. Weeks after shooting Grace in the hip, I searched and searched for a place I could have target practice away from the civilians that surrounded us in our neighborhood. I explored everywhere I could, getting as far as I could either on foot or on my bike, before the sun went down on most school nights while Grace was at work at the restaurant. I had discovered a field with tree stumps and ancient farm equipment, and after exploring a bit, had figured out that the property was abandoned, leaving a useable shooting range for me. There had been other people occasionally, looking for a place to sleep or someone named Dave (probably for drugs) but aside from that, I was alone with my guns.

Shrugging, I took a deep breath before I answered, "I wasn't going to stay long," I replied. "How did you find me?"

Daddy gave a weak, one armed shrug, and smiled gently. "You're pretty predictable when you get an idea in your head," he commented. "And your sister has a certain kinda radar for you, you know that."

I took a deep breath and nodded slowly. Grace did always seem to know where I was.

Staring down at my guns and then squinting into the darkness to inspect my target practice, Dad took a slow breath. "You can stop punishing yourself about hittin' Grace, you know. It coulda' happened to anyone."

"Not to Grace," I argued. "She's such a better shot than me." I shook my head and took a deep, ragged breath. "Not to you."

"Gracie is six years older than you, Lucky," he answered. "She's had a bit more experience." Daddy took the gun from my right hand and felt its weight, balancing it in his hand. "These guns, in the right hands, will be unstoppable." He lifted the gun and breathed slowly through his nose, aiming with one eye closed and then both eyes open. "These guns…they're way more pop than I should have let you get when you were eleven going on twenty-two, and Grace was sure to let me know that, but now," he handed the Twin back while I stared up at him. "Now, you're old enough to know what it means to kick some major ass. You wanna be better than Grace, you fight for it. You train hard and never take 'good' as acceptable."

I nodded, still staring up at my father.

He took a deep breath and continued. "Your sister isn't built to be a lifer, but you," he sighed. "You're something else, honey. You're the warrior that your angelic big sister isn't."

"She's no angel, Daddy," I giggled.

A funny look passed over my dad's face and he pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile. "Yeah, maybe half," he answered, chuckling to himself. Nodding to me, encouraging me on, he continued. "Alright, Renegade, let's see what you've got."

Grinning, I took a deep breath and reloaded my guns, checking the clips on both weapons. Raising the Twins, I kept both eyes open as I let loose two rounds from each gun. I heard the satisfying thump of two of the bullets finding their targets, but the two from my right hand pulled hard right, missing the tree trunk by a good foot and a half.

"That's good," Daddy muttered, nodding his approval. "You're pulling right with your right hand."

"The sights need to be adjusted."

Clicking his tongue, Daddy took it from my hand again and fired three shots without taking the time to line up his shots. All three bullets hit the center of the target in rapid succession. I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes.

"The sights are fine. Take responsibility and adjust your aim," Daddy lectured, handing the gun back to me. "I'm gonna grab some food, and then I'll swing back to pick you up."

"I'm not ready to go home yet."

Taking a deep breath, Dad hesitated and stared at me, and then took a deep breath as he rolled his thoughts around in his head before he answered. "Grace gets off at ten," he sighed finally. "How about if I send her to come get you before she comes home?"

"Why can't I come home the same way I got out here?" I tilted my head, furrowing my eyebrows and staring up at my father. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can."

"Then let me."

Daddy took a deep breath, pursing his lips and shaking his head slowly. "Yeah, alright, Lucky," he finally sighed. "You watch yourself out here."

I rolled my eyes again, "There's no monsters out tonight, Daddy."

"It's not the monsters I'm worried about."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Check yourself, Serra," Grace's voice came over the earpiece I wore. "You're visible out of the shadows."

I clicked my tongue, disappointed with myself and immediately backed into the shadows of the building. The vetala we hunted was somewhere in the alleyway, but we lost it somewhere behind the dumpsters. There was nowhere for it to go, so Grace went high, perching in the fire escape of a nearby apartment complex as I went low, flanking Daddy as he crept along the wall of the alley.

"I can see it," Grace whispered into our ear mics. "She's hunkered down, trying to break into the building through the window."

"You got a clear shot?" Daddy asked, glancing up into the fire escape.

Grace shook her head. "No," she replied, gripping the handheld walkie with her ear piece dangling around her neck. "Serra will if she steps forward two paces."

I did as my sister said, taking the two steps forward, but staying hidden in the shadows. The suppressor of my gun was heavy, and it forced the barrel of the weapon low. I had to make a huge adjustment to make sure my silver bullet found its target. The only problem was that we wouldn't be able to make the kill shot with a bullet. Vetala aren't easily killed; the only two ways I knew how were to stab it in the heart with a silver blade or decapitation.

"You'd better make it fast," Grace's voice was a forced whisper. She sounded nervous.

I glanced up to the fire escape and took a deep breath, "What's wrong?"

"Her mate just showed up."

Taking a deep breath, I hoped that I made the adjustments with my suppressor and fired twice, hesitated when I heard the echo of metal hitting metal. "Shit," I cursed under my breath, knowing I hadn't hit the vetala. I aimed again and took another two shots. This time, I heard the satisfying thud of bullet hitting flesh.

From above, I watched my sister jump the fire escape railing and fall the eighteen feet or so, a silver blade in each of her hands, straight on top of the female vetala I just shot. Then, immediately, I heard the telltale screech of her mate, running full tilt down the alley towards me and Daddy. I turned, took a deep breath, and unloaded the remaining silver bullets into the chest cavity of the monster. He hit the ground and Daddy rushed him, stabbing him once in the heart and twisting the blade to ensure a quick death.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back, staring up into the sky and closed my eyes. Another night, another successful hunt. We were still alive.

…

"How do you adjust for the suppressors each time?" I asked my sister on the drive home as Daddy slept in the back seat of the Chevelle.

Grace considered my words, rolling them around in her head for longer than I felt necessary. My sister never answered anything immediately. She liked to give it time to simmer before really committing to something she said.

Finally, she took a deep breath, answering quietly. "I've never liked suppressors and I avoid them if I can. They jam, especially when you have to use something as soft as silver, slow you down, and you have to make too many adjustments to be accurate as often as we need to be." She paused, taking a breath and glancing at me in the passenger seat as headlights from the opposite side of the highway lit the interior of the Chevelle. I saw her blue eyes clearly for just a breath. "Bottom line, you wait for the perfect opportunity to discharge your weapons, and then get the hell out of there before anyone has a chance to put it together that it was gunfire. No one is the wiser and you don't get dead."

I nodded, still watching my big sister as she kept her eyes on the road. I was constantly taking mental notes on how Grace carried herself; how she fought, the moves she made when defending herself, and how she interacted with the public when we were on a hunt. I would never stop learning from her and I constantly felt as if I needed to be improving.

I would never let my sister down if I could help it. Our life was much too dangerous for that.

…

It had been two years since Dad was killed. The anniversary bubbled in my throat like bile and I did what I could to avoid the sunshine that streamed through the house, mocking the sadness that ate at my mental walls. The bookending of Dad's death and Emery's had been near impossible to handle last year, and I was bound and determined to make this year's a week of improvement instead of a week of anger and frustration.

Grace and I had decided to take a job near Santa Fe, New Mexico. Santiago had called a few days ago, wanting to know if we were interested in helping out. People had begun disappearing out in the desert near a town called Pueblito, which was on the Rio Grande. There had been four missing persons reports filed in as many weeks, and for an area that tightly knit, it was weird.

As we packed for the trip, Grace muttered to herself, trying to plan for every problem we may or may not run into.

"Silver, blades, regular rounds for my forty-five, her forty-fives, the thirty-eight, and a couple of hex bags for good measure," she whispered to herself as I watched her pack.

"What do you think it is?"

Grace shrugged halfheartedly. "I don't know," she answered, not looking up. "I don't know much about anything that sounds like this. Santi was talking about something that had the head of a rooster and the body of a snake or crocodile, but that sounds more like Native American legend than an actual monster."

I laughed, rolling to my belly as I answered, "Isn't that where most of the monsters come from? Some sort of legend?"

She laughed and tilted her head to the side. "You got me there," she giggled. "But I've never heard of anything like that. The closest thing I can come up with is something like a basilisk, but the reports that I've read are that it's human shaped, which counts out the snake-form."

"Maybe it shifts?"

Grace lifted her eyebrows, "Could be," she agreed. "We'll go in open to anything and see what Santi says. Either way, we are home in five days. I have class on Monday." Pausing, Grace lifted her blue eyes to me, dropping her voice. "If you think you're hooking back up with Miguel, think again," she continued. "You're going back to school and finishing the year strong on Monday."

"Yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes. "Santiago said he's down in Louisiana, helping out with that giant coven anyway."

"Alright then," Grace sighed. "I think we have everything. We're just going to need some new lighters and a container of lighter fluid."

"Why?"

"If it is a basilisk, I think we have to burn it."

I rolled off of Grace's bed and landed on my feet. "After we cut off its head," I added. "Can't go wrong with decapitation."

Pursing her lips, Grace nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, we were driving down the highway in Grace's little red hatchback, towards the desert. I turned up the radio, leaned back in the passenger seat, and popped open a Diet Coke. I was always in the mood for a little adventure.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The desert around Santa Fe was breathtaking, though I wasn't a huge fan of the dry heat. Being next to the river made it a bit better, but overall, I had been mildly irritated the entire time we had been in New Mexico, hunting the creature that we didn't quite have a name for.

Santiago had pieced together stories and newspaper clippings over the past month of something taking younger people, all in the teenage range. Its victims were young, Santi theorized, because they were easier to get on their own and, overall, weaker.

"Okay, so the head of a rooster," Grace was reading from a book as she paced the tiny motel room, working her way back to the blasting air conditioner. "With the body of a dragon. I keep coming back to a basilisk, but here I found something called a cockatrice, which even has legend all the way back to medieval times. Shakespeare even refers to one in _Romeo and Juliet_."

"A cockawhat?" I asked, turning towards Grace. "Does it fit the description?"

"Seems to."

I walked over to where my sister had paused near the A/C. "And how do we kill it?"

Clicking her tongue, Grace shook her head. "Haven't gotten there yet," she answered, closing the book. "I'm getting real sick of monster authors writing all about the creature, telling us everything there is to know when it comes to habitat and descriptions, but never thinking to include how to end it."

I took the book from her before she walked away from me once again, and opened it to where she had left off. There was a sketched illustration of a humanoid-type creature with the head of a rooster, wings like a dragon, and the neck and tail of a crocodile. I glanced at the page, seeing the words, but not really processing them. "It can kill you by looking at you?" I asked, lifting my eyebrows expectantly. "That creates a bit of a problem, don't you think?"

Grace was already shaking her head as she opened the door for Santiago. "That doesn't seem to be consistent through the legends. We're just gonna have to take our chances," she turned and smiled at Santi, taking a deep breath as she adjusted her shirt.

I glanced up from my book, not moving my head, and watched the two interact. They had danced around each other for years, but after my brief stay with the Adaka'i boys, it seemed like Grace and Santi's window had closed. She was still awkward and easily ruffled around him, but Santi was still cool as a cucumber around her, which, I'm sure, made it that much worse for my sister. She was ruffled by no one.

"Hey," she greeted, pushing her renegade blonde strands of hair behind her ears. "Cockatrice."

Santiago smiled, "Bless you."

She giggled, shaking her head. "The monster. It's the closest thing I can find to compare to. Like a basilisk, but more human shaped, at least according to this." She straightened up and paced back towards the air. "There's a lot of different stories and ways to kill one, but our top contenders are decapitation and burning."

Santi nodded, smiling lightly, "Always fan favorites." He moved towards the table at the other end of the room to sit down.

"Any ideas for how to lure this creeper out?" I asked, lying on the bed behind my sister. "I'm hungry," I added quietly, glancing up at her.

"Yeah, in a bit," she answered distractedly. Suddenly, I saw her eyes flick up to Santiago, holding his gaze, and I knew they had both thought of something that I hadn't been included in yet.

Grace made a face, turning her head slowly back and forth, almost looking like she was denying the thoughts that both of them had. Santiago lifted his eyebrows and shrugged apologetically. "She is seventeen," he commented offhandedly.

Sighing heavily, Grace hung her head. "Always using the Browning girls," she whispered. Turning to face me, Grace put her hands on her hips. "Alright, Little," she began. "Most likely, the easiest way to court this thing is using you as bait. How you feel about that?"

From my place on the bed, I grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "I'm always up for a little excitement," I answered, sitting up. "I'm in."

"Of course you are."

Santiago put a comforting hand on my sister's shoulder. "You know we will not let anything happen to her, Grace," he explained. "She is never going to be in any danger."

Pressing her lips together, Grace shook her head. "Of course she will be," she argued quietly. "We're just not going to let it go too far."

"Deal," Santi agreed.

…

"You're not going to be able to wear a wire," Grace explained as she loaded herself with knives and guns in her varying holsters. "It's too hot for you to wear anything that'll cover it up and we don't want it being suspicious."

I nodded, listening to my sister's instructions carefully. Grace had never steered me wrong and I was convinced I was still breathing because I followed her orders to the letter. "Can I have my guns?" I asked.

"Where are you gonna put them?" she asked, lifting a doubtful blonde eyebrow. "It's not like you can wear a holster."

"I'll wear my jeans and a long tank and tuck it into the waistband," I explained, turning to demonstrate. "At least let me have one of them."

Grace took a deep breath and shrugged. "If you think you can get it past him, fine," she sighed. "You just can't stand out. You'll blow our cover."

I nodded again. "Yeah, of course," I agreed. "I just hate the idea of being a sitting duck with nothing to back myself up."

"Wait for the cavalry," Grace continued. "Don't take the shot unless you know you can either kill him or put him down long enough to set him on fire. We have to treat this as an unknown, so always assume he's still not dead."

"Okay," I took a full clip from the bed and shoved it into the bottom of one of my forty-fives. Taking another, I shoved it into the top of my bra, near my arm pit. "Does my boob hide the clip?" I asked, turning to show Grace.

"Almost," she answered, moving towards me and adjusting the clip and my tank top. "Just don't bend over or it's probably going to fall out."

"I wish my boobs were bigger," I muttered, staring down at my chest. "You got all the boob."

Grace clicked her tongue. "If I could give you some of this, I would," she answered dryly. "Yours'll come in. I was about twenty or so when I topped out, I think."

"Oh, so there's hope."

"Totally," my sister winked at me and turned to face Santiago. "Okay, all set. She'll have one of the Twins, so she's not completely unarmed."

"The Twins?"

Grace smiled, "It's what she named her matching set of forty-fives."

I leaned around my sister to grin at Santi, "All the greats have names."

"And you are great," Santiago agreed, nodding.

"She will be," Grace corrected. "As long as she keeps listening to me."

Rolling my eyes for good measure, I turned back to the air conditioner and drank in as much of the cool air as I could as I stared out the window and into the sand. Clutching the lead bullet fragment from my sister's hip in my pocket, I took a deep breath reminding myself to be better than I had ever been before. I had to be on my game. The desert wouldn't be a fun place to be.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"I've got movement," Santiago came over Grace's ear mic too loudly and full of static; enough for me to hear. "How is it you always know where to be, Grace Browning?"

Grace chuckled. "I've just got the right feelings. It's a gift," she answered, tapping her ear. "Am I coming in okay?" she asked. "I've got some pretty major feedback."

She made a face and pulled the piece from her ear, holding it away from her face. The static coming through was near unbearable. "These things always give me grief," she muttered, shaking her head. From inside her glove box, Grace's phone began to vibrate, sending the whole dashboard into a violent rattle. "Hey Santi," she greeted. "It's the ear piece," she explained. "I just can't wear them for long. There's always an issue. I'll just use my walkie."

Grace glanced at me and lifted her eyebrows, non-verbally asking if I was ready to get this show on the road. I nodded.

"Serra is locked and loaded," she continued on the phone to Santi. "I'm gonna dump her at the gas station like a pissed off girlfriend."

"We're lesbians now?" I asked, grinning as I checked the clip of my gun for what seemed like the ninetieth time.

Grace turned and waggled her eyebrows at me, but talking to both of us, "Sex sells," she answered. "You in place?"

"Yeah," Santiago replied, chuckling quietly to himself. "Looks like he's been hanging out at the by-the-hour-motel over here. Like I said, you always have the upper hand when it comes to scoping locations. I am about five minutes from you and ready to go."

"Stay on the outskirts," Grace added, taking a deep breath. "Let's not spook our cockatrice."

…

We waited in the car for awhile, making sure that our timing was perfect; as we knew it had to be. In the silence of the car, I mulled the question over and over in my head, trying to figure out the best way to ask what had been weighing on my mind. Finally, I took a breath and asked, still staring out the windshield.

"How do you handle the nervousness before the hunt?" I asked quietly, finally turning to face my big sister.

"What do you mean, 'handle'?"

I shrugged with one shoulder, trying not to give too much away. "You always seem so calm. So collected. You never doubt yourself."

Grace's eyebrows furrowed, but she didn't turn to meet my gaze, still staring out the window looking for the monster. "I doubt myself all the time, Lucky," she answered, her voice steady. "I am never sure of what will happen."

"But you always know where to go. You always know we'll be fine!" I argued. "You never seem nervous or scared."

She was shaking her head before I had even finished the sentence. "I get _feelings_, Serra. Nothing more. The psychic thing might be part of it, but it's never so powerful that I am sure of myself. I doubt myself constantly." Finally, Grace turned to stare at me, her blue eyes alight with the sun reflecting through the desert. "Here's the difference, kiddo."

I stared, barely breathing, hoping to finally get a hold of my own fear and self-doubt. I tightened my grip on the bullet in my pocket; the one that constantly reminded me never to make a mistake again.

Grace took a deep breath and licked her lips. Her voice was low, but steady as she explained, "I own the doubt. I make it a part of who I am and I use it against anyone who would threaten you or hurt us. In my mind, I can hear myself make that decision over and over, saying it in my head to anything that ends up in our path: 'go ahead and doubt me. See what happens'."

I sat quietly and absorbed what my sister explained, turning back to the windshield and taking deep breaths in through my nose and letting it out slowly through my mouth. I could feel my adrenaline slow; the pounding nerves in my chest ebbed. Already I was feeling a difference in my confidence.

_Own the doubt._

The concept seemed so simple. Leave it to Grace to simplify something and turn it into something from which we could absorb power. I stole another glace at my sister and took another breath.

_Go ahead and doubt me. See what happens._

I nodded to myself, releasing the bullet in my pocket and taking another deep breath. I was ready.

…

The cockatrice was in range, according to Santiago and we made it a point to be as loud as possible, making sure I was nice and vulnerable as Grace and I argued. We faked a pretty good argument in the car as she pumped gas and we stalled for time, hoping to attract as much attention as we could. So far, the monster in question had been picking off teenagers from right around this location and we were hoping to bank on the possibility of him doing the same thing to me.

I caught sight of a tall, ugly dude off to the side of my peripheral vision. He had a high, sloping forehead an oddly shaped nose and ears, looking human to the civilian eye, but not to me. I glanced at my sister and motioned to him with my eyes and she acknowledged by throwing the gas pump back into place, signaling the wrap of our argument.

"You know what?" she screamed at me, turning and slamming her hand down on the hood of her car. "You're on your own. I'm sorry I ever met you!"

I took the bait and slammed the door of Grace's little red hatchback as hard as I could. "Fine!" I shouted. "You're nothing without me! _Nothing_!" I turned, tossing my hair dramatically and using the move to make sure my gun was still tucked safely into the waistband of my jeans. I was wearing a good pair of old lady undies to make sure that it stayed where it needed to, barely visible from the back. I pulled my black tank down as low as it would go and sashayed into the mini mart of the gas station, refusing to look back, even to check where Ugly went.

Turns out, I'm a better actress than I thought I was, and I hooked him easily, feeling it in the base of my tingling neck that I had a tail right away as I stomped into the bathroom inside the mini-mart, feigning tears. I knew he followed me to the bathroom and I knew there was an emergency exit at the end of the hall where the bathroom was located. I was more than willing to bet that the monster had decided to lure me from the bathroom and take me out through the emergency exit, disappearing into the desert before anyone even noticed that I was gone.

It was as if he was following a script when he knocked politely on the bathroom door.

I launched myself into action, "Ugh, what!" I yelled, forcing myself to sound more emotional than necessary.

"I saw you have that argument," he began, his voice soft and comforting. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

I made a face, listening from the opposite side of the door. I could instantly see how the other young women had been taken—he sounded genuine.

"No, I'm not alright!" I replied, throwing it all in. "I fucking hate her!"

The doorknob rattled slightly as he tried the door. "If you let me in, I'll bet we could talk about it." He paused, still keeping his voice silky and soft. "We could go somewhere. Let me buy you a drink."

…

"I hate that I can't see or hear her," Grace sighed, talking to Santiago over the speakerphone. "I'm having a hard time staying put."

Santiago clicked his tongue, "She's hardly a weak teenager," he replied. "She will be able to handle herself. Hold your position."

Licking her lips, Grace took a deep breath through her nose and adjusted her position in her seat. She had driven away from the gas station, parking a couple of blocks away, but still lined up with the empty parking lot of the gas station mini mart. The emergency exit sign was broken; only the X and T were illuminated. Grace sighed again.

"How long do we wait before I go back in?"

Santiago shook his head. "You will blow our cover and the monster will be in the wind, Grace. Hold."

Pulling the clip out of her pearl-handled Colt forty-five automatic, Grace took another breath as she counted the bullets. All seven bullets were there, ready and waiting as she flicked the safety on and off, battling her own will to stay seated in her car.

Finally, after about eight minutes, there was movement at the emergency exit. The door was cracked, and it appeared that there was someone attempting to see out into the desert beyond the parking lot. Grace froze, holding her breath, as Santiago came over the speakerphone quietly.

"He's coming out," Santi whispered. "Wait, Grace. Just wait."

Grace nodded, though Santiago wasn't able to see her from where she sat. He was on his 1972 Triumph Bonneville motorcycle, tucked between two semi-trucks that were parked in the truck stop parking lot kiddy-corner to the gas station.

"I've got eyes on," Grace replied. "I can't see Serra."

"Hold," Santi pleaded.

Gritting her teeth, Grace scooted forward in her seat, straining her eyes to see her sister. Finally, she let the air she had been holding out in a huff. "There," she declared. "She's right there behind him."

"Plan remains the same, Grace," Santiago breathed. "I'll follow on the bike. You hang back and wait until we have a location. I do not want that red car to destroy our only chance to get this creature."

"Yeah, yeah," Grace nodded. "I know. Give me updates every few minutes and I can stay close."

Santiago agreed, "I'll check in twenty."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Serra

I had no idea if Grace was right about it being a cockatrice or whatever she kept calling it, but I knew we had him, whatever he was. He moved like an animal, tucking his head down and looking back over his shoulder more often than was necessary.

His voice was overly soothing and I almost felt as if I had been in some kind of trance as he talked to me from outside the bathroom door. If I hadn't been so focused on what I needed to do, he may have been able to convince me to do anything he wanted. Instead, I played the part, following him willingly when he asked to take me to a local bar.

"I'm underage, you know," I sniffed, making a show that I was still recovering from my emotional 'trauma'. "That's gonna be a problem if they card me."

He glanced back, over the opposite shoulder this time. "It won't be an issue," he soothed, putting a warm, solid hand on my arm.

I glanced down, staring at his fingers as a warm, tingling sensation trickled through my skin and spread over my arm and up into my shoulder. It wasn't unpleasant and instantly I was more at ease than I had been to begin with. I licked my lips and stared up into his dark eyes. He blinked, but with a second, sideways set of eyelids. It took everything I was not to take a step back.

He smiled slowly. "Everything will be just fine," he repeated. "Trust me."

The hunter in me reeled, wanting to pull my gun and shoot him in the face right then and there, but the docile victim nodded and pretended to be mesmerized. "Sure," I nodded, going along with him. "You didn't tell me your name."

The creature whipped his head around at me once more narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What?" he asked.

"Your name?" I questioned again. "Usually it comes with introductions?"

"Raleigh," he answered quietly. "Call me Raleigh."

I pressed my lips together, wondering how I had ruffled him. It finally occurred to me that maybe his victims were usually too mellow to consider asking. His skin to skin contact definitely fed me the need to be compliant, but being compliant had never been one of my strong suits.

I altered my tactics and instantly changed my game. "Thank you, Raleigh," I whispered, opening my eyes a bit wider to look a bit more docile and slowed my step a little more. "Anything you need."

This seemed to calm him slightly, though he still looked over his shoulder once more as he opened the door to his SUV for me. I smiled to myself as he slammed it shut, hearing the engine of Santi's Bonneville on the wind. "Your time is almost up, Raleigh," I whispered.

…

Serra

We drove for about twenty minutes, getting farther and farther out into the boonies. The sand became rocky, signaling we were both climbing in altitude and getting closer to the Rio Grande. I struggled a bit to keep my wits about me, but overall, I didn't think Raleigh's abilities had the same effect as he wanted them to. He kept looking over at me, wondering if I was doing what I needed to be doing. I did my best to relax, not showing my cards too soon. Leaning up against the gun in my back waistband was hard and uncomfortable, but I faked it best I could, holding myself limp and loose, smiling tiredly when Raleigh spoke to me.

He hadn't blinked the same since we had left the parking lot at the gas station, and I wondered if I had frustrated him enough to push his guard down.

I chanced a glance without moving my head. The cockatrice was focused; staring out onto the desert highway, but already, he looked more comfortable. We were heading towards his own land, his own comfort zone, so I knew I needed to keep my guard up as much as I could. I sighed, feigning comfort, and stared out the passenger window. My sister and Santiago were out there somewhere, backing me up. As soon as we got out of the SUV, I could take over and get this job done.

…

"They're following the river," Santiago spoke into his headset from inside his motorcycle helmet. "We're about twenty minutes outside of town, ten miles up the river."

"Moving slow," Grace muttered, putting her car in gear. "Okay, I'm right behind you."

"They don't seem to be in any rush," Santiago explained. "In the parking lot, he put his hand on your sister's arm as they talked."

"Anything happen?"

Santiago shook his head. "I think he expected there to be more of a response from Serendipity, but she didn't seem any different."

Grace shook her head, clicking her tongue in the process. "He's probably trying to get her to be more compliant." She chuckled, "Man, that's not gonna go well for him."

Smiling, Santiago agreed, "Serendipity may not have been the best choice for the bait."

"Ain't that the truth?" Grace replied, speeding down the highway. "I'm eight minutes behind you. Stay on them."

…

Serra

Raleigh, the cockatrice, was a smooth talker. I was having a hard time staying focused, but I knew as soon as I let my guard down, he would be comfortable enough to attack me. He had touched me twice more since getting into the car, and both times, I felt the same tingle creep its way up my arm and into my shoulder, close to the back of my neck. More and more, I wondered if his skin fed some sort of poison or venom into his victims to make them looser; easier to overpower and kill.

The tingle didn't last long with me, though, and as soon as his hand left my arm, so did the sensation. I had no trouble keeping my cool, but now that we were getting out of the car out in the middle of nowhere, my adrenaline kicked in a little.

"Where are we?" I asked, forgetting that I was supposed to be docile and forgiving.

Raleigh stared at me long enough to be suspicious.

I shrugged, "I mean, I thought we were gonna get some drinks, but this is cool too."

Sighing heavily, the creature blinked with that second set of eyelids again, showing his frustration. Much quicker than I was ready for, he lunged for me, but the adrenaline that had been surging in my bloodstream for the last thirty seconds or so launched me into a defensive posture. Without thinking, my gun was in my hands and I had it aimed at his chest.

"Silly girl," he shook his head, almost disappointed. "I knew when you weren't passing out that you were a bit different." Clicking his tongue, he approached me, holding out his hands. "All of my other meals passed out at least by the second touch. You're stronger than you look."

"I resent that."

Raleigh pressed his lips together and closed his eyes slowly. As I watched, his skin seemed to come alive; bumps and color flooded his cheeks, creating an almost crocodile texture to his face, arms, and hands. His neck elongated slightly and forced him to stare at me with his head tilted down, almost giving him a bird-like appearance. I took an involuntary step back as he lunged at me, taking my gun right from my hands. Pressing it to my temple, he smiled, flicking the safety off.

"Shit."

He allowed himself a small smile. "You hunters are all the same, thinking you can outsmart us or hunt us without giving yourselves away."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Do you really think it's gonna be that simple?" I asked, weighing my options.

Pressing his rough lips together, he tilted his head, shrugging.

I took a deep breath. This was the moment that Grace had been talking about—allowing my fear to take over would kill me a lot faster than fighting for my life. I decided to push it, just like I pushed everything in my life.

"You see, I've got a few weapons on me," I stalled for time. "And I'm gonna use 'em to kill you." Smiling, I continued, "Even though you've got a gun to my head, you'll be the one that ends up dead." I took a deep breath and lowered my voice, dropping it almost to a whisper. "Go ahead, baby, doubt me."

Narrowing his eyes, the cockatrice straightened his arm to fire my gun into my head. I dropped to my knees, throwing my leg out as hard as I could, making contact with his left ankle as the bullet he fired embedded with a thud into the sand dune behind me. I tucked and rolled away from him, pulling up my pant leg and whipping out the tiny Derringer I kept in my boot for emergencies. I only had two shots. I needed very badly to make them count.

The cockatrice moved quickly, keeping me on my toes and moving away from him as he attacked again. I still didn't have the best shot and I needed to slow him down enough to wound him. Stalling for time, I smiled at him.

"Aw, come on, Raleigh. We had a good thing going," I offered. "Helping someone get past a traumatic event is something that's supposed to bond people."

He squared his shoulders again, lining up his aim with my forty-five to my chest. I spun, tucking myself away from the three shots he fired and coming up onto my feet with a steel, six inch knife in my hands. The creature hissed at me, baring his elongating fangs. They were needle-sharp and spread out evenly in his very beak-like mouth. The whole effect was really disturbing.

"You are one ugly dude," I muttered, shaking my head. "No wonder you keep yourself all humany."

My ears perked; listening hard to the desert around me. I picked up the river, flowing behind the monster, but there, off in the distance, I could hear the whine of Santiago's Triumph motorcycle, which meant Grace wasn't far behind. I would be just fine.

Making eye contact with the cockatrice, I lowered my head and took a deep breath.

I winked.

He reacted just like I knew he would; raising my gun towards me once more and unloading the last four shots in rapid succession. He missed me with the first three, and then I froze, holding out my last defense. The sound from the last bullet he fired echoed into the desert as it made contact with my blade.

I looked down; seeing the bullet lodged into the steel and blew out the breath I had been holding. The knife had curled around the lead, pushing into my chest as it had absorbed the impact of the shot. It would leave a hell of a bruise.

Tossing the knife aside, I wrenched the Derringer up, and taking a deep breath, I pulled the trigger twice, unleashing the only two rounds I had. They lodged themselves into the cockatrice's body; the first into his left eye socket and the second into his neck, spilling an odd-colored yellow blood. He hissed and tried to take a step towards me, but as he did, Santi appeared out of nowhere, riding his motorcycle across the rocks and sand straight at the monster. Holding a machete high, he swung hard, separating the creature's head from his body. As the head rolled to a stop, Grace squealed to a stop next to Santiago, and threw herself from her car and ran to my side, standing over the body.

"Are you okay?" she asked, almost breathless.

I nodded slowly, holding out the knife, still wrapped around the bullet that tried to kill me.

Grace took a deep, slow breath through her nose, calming her adrenaline. "Where did you have the Derringer?" she asked quietly.

"In my boot."

Nodding, Grace closed her eyes and glanced at Santiago. "That was too close," she whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Serra

As time passed, it was a rare occasion that we took on a hunt by ourselves. More and more often, Grace would beg that we hand off the job to someone we knew, trying to convince me that we were better off staying home and staying at school.

It was lame and I got antsy.

"What is your problem?" my sister demanded one night after she got home from work. "You have been so pissy lately."

I rolled my eyes, tossing a newspaper towards her.

She didn't even look down. Instead, Grace put her hands on her hips in an overly-matronly fashion and sighed. "We're not going," she stated, matter-of-factly.

"Give two good reasons," I answered, throwing myself into the chair at the end of the dining room table.

Grace didn't even hesitate, "You're supposed to graduate high school next week and I have two papers due."

I rolled my eyes again.

Softening, Grace brought her hands down and sat down slowly next to me. "Serra," she began quietly. "I know things have been hard. We've been all-go, no-quit since you were born and then Dad and Emery…" she faded off, trying to find the words. "It's been a lot for you to deal with. For us to deal with."

"Yeah, and?" I asked, drumming my fingers on the table.

She pursed her lips, searching for the right words. "You and I deal with things very differently," Grace continued. "You and Dad were hunters. Hard core hunters. You love the thrill of going somewhere you've never been and hunting things that go bump in the night. It's therapeutic for you." She took a deep breath and tilted her head as she considered me.

I remained still.

"I'm different, Lucky," Grace murmured. "Going to school, getting a job…staying out of the life. That's what matters to me. I'd like to see you hit your fortieth birthday and maybe not die."

I clicked my tongue. "Forty, gross," I muttered.

"It's not gross, Serendipity. It's what I want for you. It's what I want for us."

"You've been saying that for years," I argued. "But we still hunt. We still go out and find werewolves and vamps. That crocodile man. It's just a tease!"

"Are you saying you'd rather not hunt at all?" Grace asked, looking taken aback.

I rolled my eyes again and put my head on the table, letting my arms hang loosely at my sides. "I don't know what I want," I spoke into the wood. "I want Dad to be alive. I want Emery to be alive. I want someone besides you to tell me what to do with my life."

"Why can't I tell you what to do with your life?"

Lifting my head, I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes, and I fought the tightness in my throat to yell, "Because you're a better sister than a mom!"

Grace sat quietly in her chair, waiting for me to get control of my emotions. Shoving my hand in my pocket, I squeezed the bullet, trying to concentrate on not crying. I hated to cry. I wasn't weak.

"You're not weak," Grace seemed to echo my thoughts as she stood and walked to the refrigerator. Pulling out a Diet Coke, she tossed it to me, then turned and took out a beer. "Remember what I said about owning the fear? Owning the doubt in your head?"

I nodded slowly, waiting to see what else my sister had in store. She never stopped surprising me.

"My doubt and your doubt are so, so very different, Little. I doubt myself on the decisions I make for us. I doubt if I'll ever make it through school or if I'll be able to make enough money to keep the electricity on." She took a long drink of her beer and set it on the counter, leaning onto her elbows to consider me from across the room. "You, you doubt your abilities as a hunter. You carry that bullet around in your pocket, trying your damndest to never make the same mistakes twice."

I felt my eyes go wide; shocked that Grace knew about the bullet.

"Truth is; you're a better shot than I'll ever be, Serra. You hit the cockatrice _through the eye,_ from the ground, with a _Derringer._ That shot was impossible, but you…you pulled it off. And then turned around and hit him in the neck, too." She laughed, taking another drink. "Santiago talked about that for weeks! Two shots from a Derringer, into targets about four inches wide, from the ground, during a fight. Serra," Grace chuckled again. "No one should be able to do that. You're seventeen, but you did."

I licked my lips, soaring high on Grace's compliments.

"But here we are, having the same arguments, because bottom line," Grace took another swig, "bottom line, I can't change you, kiddo. You're still Serendipity: mighty warrior. You've always been my gun hand, Lucky. I just have to know that you're taken care of, too."

…

Serra

"We've gotta stop meeting like this," Miguel greeted as I got out of my car. Grace pulled up behind us with her little red Toyota hatchback and stood back as we hugged.

I couldn't help the blush that flooded my cheeks, seeing Miguel again. He was taller than ever, with strong, broad shoulders, filling out much more than his brother Santiago. Memories of our brief love affair flashed through my mind, but I did my best to hold the conversation. "It's good to see you, Miguel," I greeted. "How've you been?"

"Not bad," he answered, turning to Grace and hugging her briefly. "Santi filled me in. What do you think?"

"I think we should be at home, applying for colleges," Grace answered wryly. "But she insisted that we come. You think it's a haunting?"

"Most likely," Miguel replied. "But with an estate this big, it could be anything. 'Ghoul' got tossed around a couple of times last night. Santiago always has the most faith in your endless encyclopedia of knowledge, Grace Browning. If anyone can figure out what we've got," Miguel turned and winked at me for good measure, "it's your sister."

I smiled widely in return, "Books are her specialty."

"Alright, alright," Grace waved the both of us off. "You can stop. I'm already here, there's no point in flattering me."

Miguel grinned and led us to the motel room where he and his brother had been staying over the last few days. Their hunt had not gone well and Santiago was nursing a broken wrist and concussion from the creature (whatever it was) fighting back.

"Hey," Grace greeted as we walked into the room. Santiago turned from the map on the table and held out his good arm for a hug. "You should really go to a doctor."

"I have had worse, Grace Browning," Santiago smiled. "It will heal."

"At least let me wrap it."

Automatically, my sister disappeared into the little world she shared with Santiago.

I took a deep breath and sighed sadly, wishing that they would just be a couple and be done with it, but glancing at Miguel, he shrugged, whispering, "You know they'll never do it. Too respectable."

Smiling wistfully, I lifted my eyebrows, silently agreeing with Miguel.

"There's a huge parking lot out back. It's got a field attached to it," Miguel continued, tugging my arm. "Grace has been bragging about you. I wanna see if she's full of shit."

Grinning, I slapped Miguel on the arm good-naturedly. "Grace lie? Never!" I laughed, glancing over towards my sister. She didn't even look up from wrapping Santi's arm, so I followed Miguel out the door and out into the field, hidden by a wind break tree line.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Serra

"No one will mind the shots?" I asked as we walked towards the tree stumps in the middle of the field. "We're still pretty close to town."

"We're in Oklahoma," Miguel answered. "They would think it's weird _not _to hear gunfire this early in the morning."

Laughing in reply, I nodded. "Yeah, that's valid," I commented. Before pulling out the Twins, I sunk my hand into my pocket, clutching the bullet that was wedged against my thigh, deep in my jean pocket. When I turned, Miguel had his dark eyes on me, watching to see what I was doing. Tucking his long, black hair behind his ears, he tilted his head.

"What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?"

Taking a few steps toward me, he gestured to my hand. "That. You closed your eyes and muttered something under your breath."

I sighed. "Hunters are too fucking observant," I murmured. "Yeah, it's just a ritual I do. Don't mess with a streak, you know?"

Miguel said nothing, but instead waited for me to elaborate.

Pulling out my right hand Twin, I checked the clip and slid it back into place, playing for time. "It's nothing," I tried waving him off. "It's stupid."

"Oh, come on, Lady Luck," Miguel pressed. "Give."

"Fine," I rolled my eyes, lifting my arm and firing twice into the stump, roughly fifty yards away. Two thuds echoed through the field as my bullets made contact with my target. Miguel nodded his approval and I lowered my weapon, taking a deep breath. "A few years back, right before Dad was killed, there was a demon attack on me, Grace, Dad, and Grace's boyfriend at the time. Grace took a ricochet off the rear quarter panel of the Chevelle into her hip because of me. I didn't account for the angle." I licked my lips as Miguel narrowed his eyes. "I could have killed my sister if it had been just an inch or two higher. Gut shot." I raised my gun again, this time firing four times back to back. Each bullet found its mark. "I carry the bullet from her hip in my pocket to remind me never to make that mistake again."

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the lead slug and held it out to Miguel. Carefully, he took it and inspected the fragment carefully before putting it back into my hand. "Grace told me about that once," he answered quietly. "She said it was no big deal. Tru was able to pull it out with his fingers."

"She downplays it," I argued. "Fucker was deep. Dad had to dig."

Miguel turned and began to walk towards the tree stumps that I had been shooting at, but he hesitated, turning back to me. "You take your role very seriously, don't you?" he asked.

"My role?"

Pursing his lips, Miguel nodded once. "Yes, your role as protector. You've always been Grace's watchdog little sister, taking on more pressure than you need. Grace can handle herself. I've seen her in action."

I stared at Miguel, unblinking. "I will never be responsible for my sister's pain," I stated, almost defiantly. "Never again."

"It's not like you did it on purpose."

"Doesn't matter," I glanced down, holding my gun. "Grace is the one. There's something about her—I just can't put my finger on it, but she's special. She's gonna do something big."

"And you?" Miguel tilted his head, waiting for my reply.

Without moving my head or breaking eye contact with him, I raised my arm, though Miguel stood between me and my target. Firing the last three shots without looking blinking; I answered, deadpan, "It's my job to make sure she lives to see the opportunity."

Miguel turned, seeing the last three of my bullets slam into the tree trunk. Slowly, he turned back, whistling quietly. "Damn, Luck," he whispered. "Are those through the same hole?"

"They'd better be."

Pivoting on the toe of his boot in the dirt, Miguel began the walk towards the stumps where I unloaded my pistol. Finally reaching his destination in the distance, Miguel squatted next to the trunk and inspected the holes I had made with my gun. He turned, shaking his head very slowly.

"Well?" I shouted.

"Come here."

Holding my gun loosely at my hip, I made the trip to the middle of the field to join Miguel. I lowered my gaze, staring at the hole where Miguel was digging with his pocket knife. I counted quickly, glancing at the tree. From where I stood, there was tons of evidence that the tree trunk had been used for target practice for a lot longer than we had been out there. There were holes all over its surface, complete with shatter patterns in the wood grain, where bigger caliber bullets had caused the most damage.

Moving back a little, Miguel was finally successful in digging out a couple of my slugs. "Serra," he began quietly. "There are six bullets in the same fucking hole."

I shook my head fractionally, making a face. I was disappointed. I had fired eight times.

Chancing a glance up towards me, Miguel narrowed his eyes. "You look upset," he continued. "Jesus, Serendipity. You have six slugs in the same hole. That's impossible."

"It should have been eight."

Miguel stood and held the bullet ball up in his hand. "These bullets are stacked up. Fused together," he shook his head in disbelief. "How did you do this?"

Staring at the bullet stack in Miguel's large hand, I flicked my gaze to his. "I practice a lot."

"Practice a lot," he repeated. "This is unbelievable." Miguel looked back down at his hand and shook his head again, still almost speechless. "Does your sister know you can do this?"

I took a long time to answer, staring at the bullets in his hand. I considered his question, rolling the words around in my head before I committed to opening my mouth. Grace knew a lot of things, more than I ever thought possible. I knew the psychic part of her brain was also extremely intuitive, and she rarely made a mistake about knowing where monsters were or people we could trust. I could probably go out on a limb and guess that Grace had seen my practice sessions in my memories, obsessively playing over and over in my head. I fought with myself to improve constantly and whenever we had a free moment, I was finding scrap metal and melting it down; pouring my own bullets just so I would have the ammunition to practice.

"Probably," I finally whispered. "She knows I go out to the fields after school. She knows I pour bullets." I shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

"But does she know you can do this?" he repeated, shaking his hand and emphasizing the bullet stack.

"My sister knows a lot," I sighed. "So, yeah. Most likely."

Miguel continued to stare, and then, just like I feared, I felt the monumental shift in his attitude towards me. He took a step away from me after pressing the bullets into my outstretched hand. Suddenly, I was someone to be feared, and I didn't know how I felt about it.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" I whispered.

"Because," Miguel answered quietly. "The rumors are true."

"What rumors?"

Narrowing his eyes, Miguel shook his head, almost surprised that I didn't know what rumors he was talking about. "You and your sister," he replied, still hiding in heavily engrained religious superstition.

I rolled my eyes. "Spit it out, Miguel," I retorted. "What rumors?"

"They say you are Chosen People," he began, turning to the stump and sitting on top of it. "Santiago warned me about you two back when we first hooked up. He told me, 'Miguel, she is not like other girls'." Miguel sounded too much like his brother. "'The Browning sisters walk among us'."

"What? What does that even mean, 'walk among us'?" I was getting more and more confused as the conversation progressed and more often than not, my confusion often led to my rage. I hated what I didn't understand.

"There have been talks for years among our people that there would be humans that mated with angels. They talked of a unification of Heaven and Earth, through this love affair." Miguel ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "I never believed any of it, because if there had been some cosmic match between Heaven and Earth, why had they allowed the monsters to roam free? Why hadn't someone stepped in to clean up?" He shrugged half-heartedly. "The Elders always told us these stories. These stories gave the hunters we had in our tribe hope."

"And what do any of these stories have to do with us?" I folded my arms in front of me, feeling doubt spread through my chest.

"There will be a Fair One with The Eye, and a Dark One with The Blade," Miguel waggled his eyebrows as he reached out to tug on my auburn hair. "A blonde psychic and a brunette warrior," he finished, leaning back on the stump. "You've gotta admit. Story fits."

I was already shaking my head. "After I leave this field, I'm putting this whole conversation out of my head and forgetting any of it ever happened. You and your tribe with all of your stories," I waved my hand in the air dismissively. "We're human. We're not the world's saviors or whatever and we most definitely do not have a higher purpose." I turned on my heel and headed back towards the motel's parking lot. "We're hunters from Portland who happen to be better than you at our jobs."

"Okay, hunter," Miguel called after me. "Give the Fair One my best."

I rolled my eyes and pocketed the stacked bullets Miguel had dug out of the tree stump. They had a satisfying thump against my leg when paired with the original pocket bullet as I made my way back across the field. Behind me, I didn't notice Miguel bend at the waist with his pocket knife, still digging into the hole where he had fished out my first six bullets. I didn't see the fused pair fall out of the hole and into the grass below.

I didn't catch the look on his face as he held them up, blinking slowly in surprise with a smile spreading across his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Serra

"If Grace says it's a ghoul, it's a ghoul," I sighed into the phone as I rolled my eyes. Grace caught the attitude in my voice and furrowed her eyebrows, asking who I was talking to. I brought the speaker away from my face and mouthed, "It's Billy."

Nodding, Grace waved vaguely over her shoulder, "Tell him I said hi."

"Grace says hi," I repeated, holding the phone back where it belonged as I chewed my instant mac and cheese loudly.

"Hi, angel," Billy greeted. "Well," he continued getting back down to business. "If your sister says ghoul, then yeah, she's probably right, but you're gonna have to be right on the money." Billy paused, obviously changing subjects. "Have Grace and Santi hooked up yet?"

"Ugh," I took another bite of mac and cheese. "No."

"They sure dance around each other, don't they." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," I agreed, watching Grace clean up the motel room as Santiago flipped through a book on house haunting and banishment. "Hey," I said, turning away from my sister and Santi as I lowered my voice. "What do you know about some Native American story about 'The Fair One and The Dark One'?"

Billy paused, taking a deep breath in through his nose. "Where did you hear that?" he asked, lowering his voice to match mine.

"Miguel," I explained. "He made up some crap about me and Grace being them." The hesitation from Billy was enough to make me suspicious, but Grace cleared her throat, catching my attention away from the conversation and bringing me back to the motel room. "Bill," I interrupted his silence and sighed. "Never mind, I don't want to know." I glanced up at my sister, who was beginning to organize her weapons and load her guns. "Look, I've gotta go. I'll talk to you later, huh?"

I was too young to understand the sigh that Billy expressed, so I ignored it as he continued. "Yeah, renegade. You go take care of things." He chuckled nervously. "Watch your six, huh?"

"No worries, Bill," I clicked my tongue. "Always do."

…

Serra

From my place on the bed, I was listening to my iPod while Grace talked to Santiago in a hushed, secretive voice, which of course, piqued my curiosity. Without moving my head or body, I reached with my fingertips to turn the volume of my headphones down, just so I could start eavesdropping on what my sister was saying.

Only catching the last part of Grace's sentence, I almost held my breath, wondering what they could possibly have their heads together, talking about.

"—mean that she or I are 'Chosen' people, Santi. She's got a gift, but it's because she works her ass off, practicing all the time." Grace clicked her tongue. "She sneaks out at night, just to go practice and has a friend at the local shooting range that lets her in after hours."

Santiago lowered his voice even further, "I understand that, Grace, but you have to consider the idea that she still has a blessed gift, just as you do." I couldn't help myself and incrementally turned my head to see the look on my sister's face. She was staring at Santiago; their heads were close together and their faces were inches apart. Slowly, Santiago reached for Grace's hand, resting his on top of her fingers. Flicking his dark eyes up to her, he watched as she glazed over for the customary three seconds as his memories flew through her mind. "You are special, Grace," he whispered. "Seeing my thoughts isn't something people are supposed to be able to do."

"You're not even supposed to know about that," Grace answered, shaking her head, but leaving her hand under Santiago's.

"We are hunters," he smiled in reply. "We are observant."

I smiled, still pretending I wasn't listening and staring straight ahead. I wanted so badly for Santiago to make a move.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grace's face flush and she broke eye contact, staring at the table. "So, a ghoul," she changed the subject and took a deep breath, pointing to the newspaper under their hands. "I hear they're a pain in the ass."

Santiago's moment was broken and he closed his eyes slowly, pulling his hand away from my sister and leaning against the backrest of his chair. "Yes," he answered. "It is not a creature we see often, so I'm glad you're here to think of things I did not consider."

Grace shrugged off Santi's compliment and took a deep breath. "That's what I do," she sighed. I could read it in her voice: she regretted instantly her change of subject. I chanced another glance towards my sister and accidentally made eye contact with her across the room. I was made.

"Would you like to join the conversation?" she asked, still using a quiet voice, knowing very well that I could hear her.

I sighed, not bothering to deny anything. "No, thanks," I answered, turning the volume of my headphones back up. "I'm fine over here."

…

Serra

"Why didn't you let me take the shot?" I yelled as Grace pushed me through the entrance of the motel room. Santiago and Miguel were right behind us, stumbling in with bruises and scrapes from our bad night. The hunt had not gone well.

Grace slammed the door, wheeling on me in full-fledged, pissed-off-sister mode. "Why didn't I let you take the shot? You would have killed Miguel!"

"I would not!"

"Goddammit, Serra, you're shooting _forty-five caliber_ bullets. That shit would have gone right through the fucker's chest and into Miguel's from that position!" She wrenched off her denim jacket and started unloading the stores of weaponry from all over her body, tossing each gun and knife onto the bed. "You were four feet from it! Why didn't you just cut off his head like I told you to? Or let one of us? You don't have to be the hero!"

"I'm a better shot!" I screamed back, gesturing to Miguel. "He's pretty fucked up! Broken nose! Broken ribs! I was ready to end the fight! I would have ended it!"

"You would have ended Miguel!" Grace grit her teeth and stared me down, challenging me to argue again. From the look on her face, she probably would have hit me if I had opened my mouth again, so I took a hard breath in my nose and forced myself not to say anything.

"Get packed, you're done," she commanded, ending the discussion.

"You're pulling me? Bullshit!" I just couldn't keep my trap shut and Grace turned hard, slapping me across the face. My hand came up to my face automatically, feeling the heat from where my sister's hand had made contact. I forced myself to hold her eye.

Lowering her voice, Grace moved closer so that we were face to face. I didn't back down, but I also wasn't stupid enough to say anything else. "You're done. You're going home and we are staying," she gestured to Santiago and Miguel, "to finish the job that you fucked up."

Quietly, I asked, "How am I getting home? I'm out of gas."

"Then I guess you'd better get walking," Grace whispered.

With that, she turned and strode out of the motel room, headed through the parking lot to the bar across the street and I was left standing, still cupping my face, with Santiago and Miguel.

Swallowing hard, I glanced at Miguel, "I'm sorry I fucked this all up," I whispered.

"We're all still alive," Miguel answered quietly. "It's not as bad as Grace made it."

Santiago's dark eyes flicked to Miguel, giving away the fact that he was lying.

"Yeah it was," I continued. "Grace is right—I got cocky."

Pressing his lips together, Santiago dipped his head. "You have every right to be, most of the time. You have a gift, Serendipity. Today," he sighed. "Today didn't go as planned." With that, he turned and followed Grace out into the night, leaving me alone with Miguel.

"You don't have to stay," I muttered, taking off my leather jacket and tossing it onto the bed. I began the ritual of taking off my guns and their holster, along with emptying my pockets onto the nightstand. Miguel watched quietly as I laid my pocket knife, keys, and Grace's bullet neatly next to the lamp.

Slowly, he approached, taking my hand from the nightstand and holding it in both of his own. "Serra," he began, using my name instead of the many nicknames everyone had for me. It caught my attention. "I don't believe you would have killed me if you had taken that shot."

"You don't know that," I answered. "Grace is right. It would have been a stupid move. I blew it and the ghoul got away."

Miguel held my hand close to his face and I took a deep breath, wondering where this was going. We had been a hot-and-heavy, way-too-young couple a few years ago, right after Dad was killed, but I never considered actually being legit. My heart rate quickened as he bent to kiss my hand.

As I watched his silky, long, black hair swing forward with the movement, the scalp of his head seemed to quiver, almost changing shape. Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head; my senses suddenly on high alert. He flicked his dark eyes to mine and there, while I watched, they changed from yellow to black in the blink of an eye. If I had blinked, I would have missed it.

This wasn't Miguel, standing in our motel room. It was the ghoul.

Swallowing hard and playing off that I was just nervous about the supposed sex we were about to have, I took a deep breath and pulled my hand away, playing the part and tucking my hair behind my ears. Running through a list of possible plans of attack, I searched my mind for the details that Grace had told me this morning. Ghouls had the ability to shift into people they had touched, changing their face as easily as breathing, right down to their fingerprints. The creature watched me carefully, tilting his head to the side and smiling gently.

"Can I stay?" he asked, sitting on the bed next to the pile of weapons.

Nodding, I played for time. "Yeah, of course," I ventured. "I want you to stay."

Grace had described ghouls as clever and creative as well, easily adapting to situations where they needed to survive. I had to admit, the ghoul in front of me would have had me fooled. This asshole was parading around as Miguel, playing on the fact that I probably still had feelings for him, buried somewhere deep in my subconscious.

"I just need to clean up a bit," I continued, turning towards the bathroom. "Wash my face and try and get past the fact that Grace just slapped me."

The Miguel-Ghoul nodded slowly and smiled. "Of course," he agreed. "Take your time."

I turned to close the bathroom door, instantly looking around for something, anything to fight with. Killing a ghoul wasn't easy: they were fast movers and super strong, with quick reflexes and adaptability. Grace mentioned this morning that the easiest way to get them disarmed and easy to kill was to bash their head in.

I searched the bathroom quickly, my eyes raking over every corner, searching for some kind of weapon. Finally, I stared at the toilet and noticed the lid to the tank was off kilter and cracked and it caught my attention. Walking over and quietly lifting it, I discovered that it was relatively easy to wield. If I could move quickly enough, I might be able to get the drop on him. I put it down and yanked off my top, dropping it on the floor in front of me. Picking up the toilet lid, I reached for the door handle.

"Hey," I called, trying to use the most seductive voice I could. "I think I'm just going to hop into the shower." I opened the door wide enough to show my face and my bra. "You wanna join me?"

Miguel-Ghoul blinked again, showing his yellow eyes for only a breath. He smiled gently, nodding, and headed towards the door. I tucked myself back into the bathroom and took a deep breath, clutching the tank lid with both of my hands, preparing myself.

I really hoped I was right about this.

Pushing the door open wide, the Miguel-Ghoul smiled as he entered the bathroom; already in the process of pulling off his shirt. Immediately, I knew there were supposed to be two tattoos on his ribcage, but they were missing, meaning that the ghoul had not seen everything he was supposed to be duplicating. This creature was most definitely not my Miguel.

Holding my breath, I tensed and brought my arms back as the door hit the sink, stopping it from opening any wider. As hard as I could, I used both arms to swing the tank lid towards Miguel-Ghoul's head, making contact and slamming him against the mirror, shattering it onto the floor.

My bare feet made the shards of mirror glass hard to navigate, but without hesitating, I jumped towards the fallen ghoul, lifted the toilet tank lid high above my head and let it come crashing down onto his head once more, silencing his labored breathing. The scene was gory and I closed my eyes and looked away, trying to keep the blood and brain matter out of my nose and mouth. I wiped my face with the back of my arm and coughed, gagging just for a second while I got my wits about me.

This was going to be a hell of a mess to clean up.

Tip-toeing over to the bathtub, I started the water, shaking my head at the irony of Grace being mad at me for almost killing the ghoul back at the house.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Grace

"She's getting cocky," I sighed, rubbing my face with both of my hands while Santiago sat at the dingy bar with me, nursing a beer. "It's what I was worried about from the beginning with those damn guns. She thinks they're infallible."

Santiago shrugged, smiling gently. "Most of the time, she is," he ventured, taking another sip. "What are more upset about? The fact that your baby sister is growing up or that she's a better shot than you?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I always knew she'd end up a better shot than me," I commented. "I just thought if I got to her young enough, she would change her mind about hunting." I made a face at Santi, shrugging one of my shoulders. "I should have known better, though. She's not someone who can be tamed."

"The natural disaster," Santiago agreed, laughing quietly. "I have heard the nickname."

I rested my head in the palms of my hands and rubbed my eyes, hard enough to see stars momentarily. "I just don't know, Santi," I sighed, bringing my hands down to the bar, feeling the grain of the wood beneath my fingertips. "I feel like I'm grasping at straws…I have no idea how to raise a teenager."

"Yes, you do," Santiago offered, reaching out to rest his hand on mine. "Serendipity is proof."

I stared at his hand, a thousand thoughts sailing through my head. I didn't feel the urge to pull away, but at the same time, all I felt towards Santiago was platonic love. He was like a brother to me and I didn't know how to let him down, considering he had always seemed to want something more.

"You disappeared on me again," he ventured, removing his hand from mine.

I nodded slowly, knowing this conversation wasn't something that I really wanted to have, but it was probably necessary. "I do that, you know," I began, smiling wistfully at him. "You've known for years about the psychic thing." I shook my head, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't know how—I hide it from everyone else really well."

"It's what happens when you observe for too long," Santiago replied. "You've been a part of our family for a long time."

"Santiago," I took a deep breath. "We're…we're just us, right?"

If anyone else had stared at me for as long as Santiago had, I would have been uncomfortable, but his dark eyes were not accusing or dismayed. Eventually, he smiled, "Of course," he agreed. "We have always been 'just us'."

"You seem to want more," I murmured.

"One can never get too much of Grace Browning," he explained simply. "Either way, I am happy with us."

As I opened my mouth to continue, the door behind us slammed open, allowing a bright stream of light to cascade into the dimly lit bar. I turned suddenly, squinting at the blinding reflection on the tile floor.

"Don't worry," Serra announced as she approached Santiago and I at the bar. Luckily, she lowered her voice enough as she approached that she didn't attract any more attention than she already did. "I got the ghoul."

"What?" I asked, whipping around. "Where's Miguel?"

"You mean the ghoul?" Serra snapped back. "His brains are all over our motel bathroom."

"What!" I practically shouted, standing up from the bar. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Serra rolled her eyes and leaned in, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. "The dude that came home with us was not Miguel," she began. "I don't know where Miguel is, but he wasn't in the motel with me. His eyes blinked yellow so fast, you'd miss it, and he was missing his chest and rib tattoos."

Santiago's eyes went wide, turning to face me questioningly. "If he wasn't with Serra," Santi began, "then he must still be at the house?"

I was up and out of my seat at the bar before he finished his thought, both Santiago and Serra jogging closely behind. Serra's car sat next to mine in the parking lot, but she was still out of gas and her little Acura was useless. My Toyota was not far behind.

We ripped open the doors and piled in. Serra barely had the door closed before I was peeling out of the parking lot and back towards the house.

"Are you armed?" I asked, glancing to my sister in the passenger seat.

She rolled her eyes in reply. "Am I armed," she repeated, her tone completely disgusted. "Hey, Santi, are you breathing?"

"What?"

She ignored his reply and stared at me from across the car, her face dripping with distain. "It's like asking the same question."

I rolled my eyes, shifting into fifth gear as we flew down the wide boulevard. "You can cram the sarcasm," I lectured. "Are you or not?"

"Yeah," she clicked her tongue.

"Santi, are you?"

He was already shaking his head as I glanced in the mirror, into the back seat. "No, but I'm sure you have something in here for me."

"Find what you can," I breathed. "The ghoul must have switched places with him when he went upstairs to check the bedrooms." I shook my head, cursing my own stupidity. "We never should have separated, especially with something that can mimic." I watched Santiago in the mirror again, "I'm sorry, Santi. We'll get him back."

Santiago's dark eyes found mine in the mirror and nodded. He smiled gently. "I know we will, Grace. He's fine."

Breaking the moment between us, Serra was loading the clips to her forty-fives, louder than seemed necessary. She shoved bullets into the clips and was stuffing ammunition into every pocket she had. Then, lifting herself up and out of the seat, she put on her holsters and loaded them with guns and blades.

Serra would never make the same mistake again.

…

Grace

The house was dark as we approached. I had run out of gas about a quarter mile ago, so we had no choice but to leave my Toyota on the side of the road. We'd solve that problem later. Serra turned and gestured to the back of the house and I nodded, giving her permission to cover the rear of the house. Santiago and I split as soon as we approached the porch. I went for the front door and Santi flanked me, heading for the side door that led to the basement.

We were separated again, but this time, we wouldn't be caught unaware.

As I approached the front porch, I climbed the steps silently and held my blades at my side, waiting for any movement. The lights were on in the kitchen, but aside from that, the living room and dining room were both dark.

The front door was open and I pushed gently, using the tip of my buck knife to open it wide enough to get through. From the look of things, the house was empty, but I was taking no chances.

"Miguel?" I whispered, looking around. From the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of Serra as she made her way through the back door. She tossed me a look, but I shook my head. I didn't see any hint of Miguel.

Together, we headed towards the stairwell, almost back to back, covering both sides. Santiago followed, barely making a sound, even when he stumbled at the top step. Looking down to see what he tripped on, Santi glanced up at me, lifting a boot into the air. Miguel must have put up a hell of a fight, to lose a boot up the steps.

We rounded the corner and I pointed to the three drops of blood on the ground. Santiago nodded, taking the lead and heading to the back bedroom. We approached slowly, taking our time not making a single sound. Finally, I took a deep breath and glanced behind me, making sure that Serra was ready. Both of her forty-fives were in her hands. Her hazel gaze was dark, full of rage and adrenaline. She nodded once.

I whipped the door open silently and we aimed every weapon we had into the room. There, tied to the ceiling, crucifix style, was Miguel, or at least someone that looked like Miguel. His eye was swollen shut and his nose had been bleeding, but he was conscious and half way through sawing through the rope that bound him to the ceiling.

"Aye Dios mio, I'm glad to see you," he whispered, seeing Serra. "What the hell took you so long?"

"Your twin kept me company for a bit," Serra replied, watching the door as I cut through Miguel's bindings.

Santi smiled at his brother. "Perdiendo tu toque," he muttered, though I wasn't sure what he said.

Scoffing, Miguel rolled his eyes, "I'm hardly losing my touch," he translated, mostly for my benefit. "Fucker got the drop on me." He glanced up to me and shook his head apologetically. "There's another one. She's in the house somewhere."

"A pair?" I repeated, rolling my eyes. "This just keeps getting better and better."

"We know it's you, right?" Serra asked, poking him with the barrel of her right hand Twin. "Prove it's you."

"_Likan_," Miguel smiled, using a Navajo word, wincing slightly at pulling the cut on his lip. "You at fifteen would never be half as good as you at eighteen."

Serra repressed a grin. "We'll talk," she murmured, winking at him. "Let's go find the other ghoul."

"No need," a female voice announced, standing in the doorway. "I knew you'd come back for him."

I gasped. The sensation was strange, staring at a creature that you knew not to be human, but looked just like you. There, standing in the doorway, was my own face and body staring back at me. Her hair was up in the same ponytail I wore and stared at me through my bright blue eyes.

"Oh, this," Serra grinned at me. "This is gonna be fun."

I clicked my tongue, annoyed. "Killing me is fun?"

Chuckling, Serra shrugged and took a step forward. She took a deep breath and smiled, "Come on, sweetheart, I don't have all day."

The ghoul smiled in return, oddly looking pained with my own smile, but not. She circled Serra slowly as Santiago and I helped Miguel to his feet. "You're exactly right. You don't have even minutes left, let alone the entire day," she growled, sounding like me, but not.

Slowly, Serra reached behind her, pulling the long machete blade from the sheath on her back. In her other hand, she held her silver-on-black, Colt forty-five. "Go ahead, baby," she whispered. "Doubt me."

The ghoul launched herself at Serra, but catching it against her shoulder and spinning, Serra dumped the monster on the ground and with one swipe, separated its head from the body. I stood with my mouth open as my little sister shot the ghoul through the skull for good measure, and wipe the renegade hair from her eyes with the back of her gun hand. Suddenly, I was seeing Serendipity in a whole new light and I had to admit, I was a little taken aback. My baby sister had become a monster killing machine.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Grace

"That was unfuckingbelievable," Serra was saying to Miguel as they walked along the dirt road back to our car. She spoke quietly, leaning towards him, but talked animatedly with her hands, regaling the fight in the bathroom with the first ghoul.

I listened momentarily, but then turned to Santi, slowing my gait to separate myself from my sister. Lowering my voice, I leaned towards Santiago, "Should I be worried?" I asked.

"Worried about what?" Santiago answered, lowering his voice as well.

I glanced to the older of the Adaka'i brothers and took a deep breath. "Worried about what?" I repeated, "Worried about the monster murderer over there. She's gotten a little too good and it's starting to scare me a bit."

Santi slowed more, watching his brother walk with my sister. "Scare you because she's efficient and good at what we do?" He shrugged and turned to face me again, "I would much rather her be too good than dead."

"Yeah," I sighed, shrugging. "I guess, but I don't want her getting cocky. She's going to get herself killed."

"Not with moves like that."

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head slowly. "Do you ever want to get out, Santi?" I asked, changing subjects without preamble.

He took a deep breath, kicking a rock to the side of the road as he considered my question. "What would we do in that world, Grace Browning? Sell guns? Work at a library?" he laughed at the possibilities. "And you, psychic? You could tell fortunes and make more money than we have ever dreamed."

I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand. "It's got to be better than living like this," I sighed, "to know that we were safe?"

"What's worse?" Santi pressed, "_Thinking_ you are safe from monsters or _knowing_ that you can take care of yourself when they do show themselves?" He shook his head slowly, "I am sorry, Elder Browning," he continued quietly. "You are in this world because you have a purpose. Your purpose happens to be supernatural."

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I chose not to answer.

…

Grace

Serra and Miguel's walk slowed to almost a stop as we rounded the last curve before our location where we left the car. Following behind by almost twenty yards, I glanced up and furrowed my brows at my sister's expression.

"What's the matter?" I asked, tilting my head.

Gesturing behind her, Serra widened her eyes, "Your car's not there."

I quickened my pace, "What?"

"It's not there! It's gone!"

I jogged to the area where I parked my car and rolled my eyes. "You have got to be kidding. Who would come all the way out here to steal a Toyota?"

"Do we know it's stolen?" Miguel asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"What else could it be?" I asked, turning to Santiago and spreading my arms wide.

He exchanged a knowing glance to his brother and pointed at the sign clipped to the property fence behind me. I turned and closed my eyes, reading the county sign. "No trespassing, private property," it read in large, angry red letters. "Subject to tow."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," I whispered. "Who calls a tow truck in the middle of farmland?" Leaning my head back as far as it would go and staring at the sky, I put my hands on my hips and took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

We were officially out of cars.

"How the hell are we going to get home?" Serra turned towards me accusingly.

"What, like this is my fault?"

She pressed her lips together and spread out her hands. "I'm not the one who got her car towed in the middle of nowhere."

"Goddammit, Serra," I sighed. "Yours is out of gas, so you're hardly one to speak right now." I turned to Santiago and took a slow breath, closing my eyes. "I'm sorry, Santi," I apologized yet again. "This is really turning into a fucked up hunt."

Santiago laughed, shaking his head. "This is hardly the worst thing that has ever happened on a hunt, Grace," he soothed. "We'll get back to the motel, clean up, and steal your car back. It's not that big of a deal."

"I have to go home, Santi," I replied. "We're out of money and we're both out of gas. I have a few paychecks sitting at the diner and if we can get home first, I can cash out so that we have the gas to get home." I clicked my tongue. "We didn't exactly plan this well."

"We can front you the money for gas," Miguel argued.

I held up my hand, shaking my head slowly. "I know you can, Miguel," I answered. "But we got ourselves into this mess. We can get ourselves out. We just need a ride home."

Santiago sighed, touching my shoulder gently. "Whatever you say, Grace," he sighed. "Let's get back to the motel and I'll drive you back to Lawrence."

"That's three hours, at least," Serra commented. "It's also in the wrong direction for you guys to go home. We can hitch."

"There's rumors of a wendigo in Minnesota that we were thinking about going after," Miguel winked. "It's on the way."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Serra

The Adaka'i boys dropped us off later that evening and I was devastated to leave both of our cars in Oklahoma. I didn't get why Grace wouldn't let them help us get her car back right away, but she didn't look like she was in the mood to push. So I let it go.

Walking into the kitchen, I leaned up against the doorframe and watched my sister scrub her fingernails with a small brush. Cleaning the brains and blood of the ghoul out of the carpet and the walls of the dingy motel was a little harder than I anticipated, but with Miguel and Santiago's help, we got it done in a hurry.

"So what's the plan?" I asked quietly. "We need our cars."

"They're fine where they are for a few days," Grace replied without looking up. "It's not like yours is going anywhere. It'll be safe with Miguel's friend."

"Yeah but what about yours?"

Grace shrugged, still rinsing the dried blood out of her nails. "What about mine?" she answered sarcastically. "I have the Chevelle."

I could feel my mouth open slightly. "You…you can't just leave your car at the tow yard," I whispered. "That's _your_ car."

Finally, Grace turned around, drying her hands on the towel. "It's about time my luck with that car ran out," she responded, shrugging half-heartedly. "I can probably get the Chevelle running again. We have enough cars."

Without realizing I was doing it, I shook my head slowly. "But the Chevelle…" I began.

"The Chevelle what?"

My voice dropped to a whisper, "That's Daddy's car."

Grace swallowed hard. "Daddy's dead." With that, she tossed the towel on the counter and strode out of the room.

…

Serra

I stood in the moonlight, out in the middle of my target practice field outside of town with Grace's words still echoing in my mind.

_Daddy's dead._

I could tell just from her tone that she had not forgiven him for making the deal that ended up killing him, not so long ago. Staring down at the guns in my hands, I rotated them slowly, allowing the glow from above to catch the engravings. They were just beautiful.

"The moon is too bright tonight," Grace's voice broke my revere and I spun, not hearing her approach. "You're gonna get caught out here."

I pushed my tongue against the back of my teeth, irritated that my sister had been able to get the drop on me. "Never have before," I replied, automatically needing to argue with her. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were at work?"

Grace shrugged. "I was," she replied, reaching for one of my guns. "It's after two."

Furrowing my eyebrows, I glanced at my watch. I had been out here almost five hours. No wonder I was tired.

"Got my checks," she continued quietly, lifting my gun and aiming at the tree stump, almost fifty yards away. "We can get my car in the next couple of days if you want."

She fired three times, hitting the stump each time and sending wood splinters into the air. She would never brag, but Grace was almost as good of a shot as I was. It made sense, considering she's the one who taught me how to shoot in the first place, but she made sure to remind me every once in a while.

I turned to smile softly at my sister, "What made you change your mind?"

"I really love my car," she whispered, lowering the gun.

Grinning, I nodded. "I know you do," I answered. "Nice shot."

"Eh," Grace shrugged. "They're all pulling to the left." She stared at her feet. "Look," she began, "I didn't mean to sound so bitchy about Dad earlier."

"I know you don't mean it," I replied instantly, almost embarrassed. "You and Daddy had a much different relationship than he and I did."

"I'll say," Grace answered, still staring at my gun as she held it in the moonlight. "And the Chevelle—"

I cut her off, shaking my head. "The Chevelle is still hard to look at, but you handled it better than I would ever be able to. You were a better driver than Daddy. If anyone should drive that car, it should be you."

"It's not time yet," Grace replied. "We'll use it to go get my car and then tuck it away again for awhile. Besides," she smiled. "I don't want your car to have an APB on it for robbing a tow yard."

The Adaka'i boys had friends that were able to refill my Acura and drop it off, not long after we left Oklahoma. It arrived in our driveway only hours after we got home.

"That would be nice," I chuckled.

Pressing her lips together, Grace handed my gun back to me. "Let's let my car cool off for a bit," she continued quietly. "We'll go in a few days." There was an awkward silence between us, for longer than necessary, but finally, Grace stared down at me. "Serra," she began, "this world is an awful place sometimes."

I nodded, wondering where she was going with this.

"And as long as were hunting, I'm glad I'm hunting with you."

Grinning, I stared up at Grace as she hugged me with her free arm. "Me too," I replied automatically.

"Seriously, though. You are one terrifying bitch with them guns."

I soaked up the compliment from my big sister and felt the rosy glow spread through my cheeks; glad that it was dark enough not to notice. "Damn right," I replied, taking my other silver-on-black, hand engraved Colt forty-five back from my sister.

…

Serra

"Alright," Grace tossed an orange to me and I caught it as she pointed at the map in front of us. "That tow yard isn't in Miami," she explained. "It's a little south in a town called Vinita, right off the forty-four."

"It's really weird that a town in Oklahoma is named 'Miami'," I said through the giant bite of cereal in my mouth. "It's not tropical or desirable at all."

Grace chuckled, shaking her head as she peeled her own orange. "At first, I even thought about just paying the fine for my car, but I looked it up: it would cost over a thousand dollars to get it back because it's been there over a week."

"Jesus!" I cried, swallowing my bite of cereal. "Where do they get off!"

Grace just shook her head. "We'll wait until swing shift gets in, around one in the morning. Go in, cut the fence and just push it out, considering they most likely left it in neutral. We need to make sure to bring a can of gas with us or we won't get very far."

I nodded, listening to Grace go over the plan and shrugged, "In and out. No problem."

"Hopefully. It seems that our easiest plans never go as planned."

"Plan."

"What?"

"You said 'plan' a lot. I'm helping."

Grace made a face and shook her head. "I'm going to work for a couple of hours. You need to do some housework and get your laundry done," she continued. "We'll leave when I get home."

"Yes, Mother."

On cue, Grace rolled her eyes and walked out of the room. I chuckled and kept eating, waving vaguely over my shoulder when she left.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Serra

The drive back down to Oklahoma was uneventful, but I was on high-level anxiety riding shotgun in Dad's old Chevelle. The engine sounded the same as it ever did, once Grace got it started. She let it run for about fifteen minutes; trying to get the misses out. She changed the oil, filled up the gas tank, and we were on our way.

I kept glancing at my sister, trying to shake the feeling that she just _belonged_ in the driver's seat of the 1971 Chevy. It's like I could see her after it got fixed up, rolling the window down and letting her hair sail out, into the wind. How we would ever afford to do that, I had no idea, but a girl could dream.

About a quarter mile from the impound yard, Grace killed the motor and turned off the headlights. She grabbed the bolt cutters and the small can of gas. "Alright," she whispered. "We'll get in, find it and fill it as fast as we can, and you can steer it out of the gate. I'll close the gate behind you and meet you at the gas station we saw coming in." She shoved the gas can at me. "There's enough in there to get it started."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I answered, shaking my head. "I can barely start your car, let alone drive the manual under pressure."

"The Chevelle is a manual too, dummy," Grace lectured. "You have a choice: a modern, dependable manual or a vintage, unreliable one."

I made a face and whined, "Grace!"

"What do you want me to tell you?" she pressed, walking towards the gate with the bolt cutters. She waited in the shadows, watching the camera that was mounted on the top of the gate. The red light wasn't lit, leading us both to believe that it didn't work. "One of us has to drive my car. The other one has to drive the Chevelle. Which do you want?"

"Ugh, fine," I finally answered.

Without another word, Grace approached the gates and set down the gas can. She glanced up at the camera once more and waited for someone, anyone, to react. When no one approached, she took a deep breath and gritted her teeth, forcing the bolt cutters through the padlock on the fence. "Oklahoma," she whispered.

"Like Kansas is much better."

Grace chuckled in the dark, "Yeah I guess you're right."

We padded through the parking lot full of impounded cars. Grace pulled out her spare set of keys and we jogged to the little red hatchback.

Grinning, Grace reached out and patted the hood of the Toyota. "Hi, baby," she greeted. "You ready to go home?"

"Are you talking to the car?" I asked.

"What if I am?" she replied, popping the door and lifting the lever to open the gas tank door. As she filled the tank with the little gas can, she continued, "We've got like, five minutes before someone else comes into that little office thing," she gestured to the shed-looking office that stood in the middle of the lot. "You need to get in and get yourself acquainted. I'll push you to the fence."

"Why can't we just start the car?" I asked, pressing down the clutch and turning the key. The little red hatchback started right away. "There's no one—"

"Hey!" a deep, male voice shouted across the lot. "What the fuck!"

"That's why, dumb ass," Grace lectured again and sighing heavily, ducking behind the car. "Go, Serra, go, go, go!"

Slamming the door closed, I gunned it, making the tires spin out behind me. I watched Grace duck out of view and take off, back towards the gate we came in, and I did my best not to stall the manual transmission. I used the car to block the large man from seeing my sister, but as I tried shifting into second gear, I popped the clutch and stalled.

"Shit," I whispered, throwing the clutch back in and trying to start the motor again. The impound lot employee was lumbering towards me, moving slowly, but fast enough to make me panic. His belly tugged at the buttons of his mechanic's shirt, and sweat dripped through his black goatee as he made a break for the tiny office.

Finally getting the Toyota to start again, I stayed in first gear this time, muttering to myself about rolling the car forward. "Come on, come on," I whispered, urging it on.

I could see Grace at the end of the driveway. She had already managed to get to the Chevelle and was waiting for me at the end of the road. Again, I tried speeding up and shifting into second gear, but I was letting go of the clutch too quickly; and yet again, I allowed the motor to come to a shuddering stop.

Glancing up into the rear view mirror, I could see the big man come back out of the tiny office and stumble down the steps, carrying a forty-five automatic. "Oh my God," I muttered, rolling my eyes and throwing the car back into first gear. "Come on, you bitch," I groaned at Grace's car. "Let's go."

I could hear the roar of the engine of the Chevelle getting closer and I breathed a little easier: Grace was coming for me. I got the Toyota moving again and convinced it to stay in gear, but the impound lot guard was getting closer and closer, raising his weapon. Before I knew what was happening, Grace was using the Chevelle as a battering ram, pushing the gate wide open as I floored the hatchback. I spun out again, but this time opted to stay in first gear, getting as close to the gate as I could before the guard fired his gun.

The first couple of pops from the forty-five echoed through the night and I turned the wheel as hard as I could, going around the guard station and trying to make my way towards the gate. It wasn't a straight shot and I had to stay in gear if I hoped to get out of here. Grace was driving like a maniac, forcing the guard to split his attention between us. She drove through the shed, taking out the guard house and making as much of a disaster as she could. I took a deep breath and held it as I pushed in the clutch, trying for second gear again.

As slowly as I could, I released the clutch as soon as I moved the stick into gear and exhaled slowly when the car stayed running. I was close to the gate, and Grace was on my flank, drawing the guard's attention away from me. As the echoes of another three shots rang into the night, I ducked, feeling like they were headed right for me. I could hear the thud of lead hitting metal, but when I glanced in the mirror again, I saw that Grace had skidded to a stop behind me, blocking the guard's path towards me as she used the Chevelle as a blockade.

I saw Grace's face in the mirror, watching to see that I cleared the gate. I took a deep breath and shifted again, this time to third gear. The steady hum of the Japanese engine reassured me that I had successfully changed gears and I floored it towards the outskirts of town.

The rumble of the Chevelle told me that Grace was not far behind.

…

I rolled to a stop at a gas station about twenty miles past where we originally decided to meet. Grace pulled the Chevelle in behind me, cutting the engine and leaning forward on the steering wheel. I got out, grinning, and walked to her driver's side, but immediately slowed to a stop as my mouth fell open, staring at our father's car.

There were three bullet holes through the driver's side door of the Chevelle, even with where Grace's hip would be. I whipped open the car and knelt down, ready to catch her if necessary. There were two red pools of blood on the floorboard and holes in the hip of her jeans where the bullets ripped through to embed themselves into her skin.

"Oh my God, Grace," I leaned over the front seat and reached for the first aid kit that was buried among the duffel bags. "Are you okay? How deep are they?"

"I'm fine," she muttered. "I pulled one of the slugs out already because it was just embedded into my jeans," she adjusted her leg slightly. "But the other two are in pretty good." She threw me a weak grin. "It's a good thing I'm curvy."

"I can't believe you used yourself to block those shots," I sighed. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that Toyota is made of thinner steel than this. Those three bullets would have probably killed you if they had made it through." She winced as I pulled out one of the slugs. "This way, I get to remind you about how I got shot again because of you."

I clicked my tongue. "Convenient," I commented, rolling my eyes. "Last one," I continued. "This one's in there. It's gonna sting."

Grace nodded as I dug with my fingernail. The bullet was lodged deep enough that I had to pull skin away from my sister's leg and she took a deep breath through her teeth as the pain registered. I didn't stop, though, knowing that I just needed to get it done.

"Ugh," I grunted, "there. Let's get you cleaned up and we'll get the hell out of here. There's probably cops all over, looking for us."

"I've had the scanner out," Grace shook her head. "Flipping around and heading east was smart. They're all headed back to Miami."

I nodded and pressed a towel against my sister's exposed hip, trying to slow the bleeding. "You're welcome," I grinned.

"Next time, I'm gonna let them shoot you," Grace grunted, leaning back into the seat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Go get me some vodka."

"Are we drinking and driving?"

Grace threw me a dangerous look. "I'm gonna clean out my newest wounds. And then, yes, I may take a shot or two to dull the pain."

I cracked another smile and nodded, heading into the mini mart of the gas station. That was a little too close.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Serra

A few months and a few hunts passed. I did my best to hold down a couple of jobs after school, but I was no good at it. All I wanted to do was practice.

Night and day while Grace was at school and work, I was out in my field, shooting at anything I could get my hands on. I gathered the casings, collected cans, and traded them for lead at the scrap yard to keep pouring bullets. I knew Grace knew what I was doing, but she never brought it up. She never mentioned the piles of bullets she would find in random places or the fact that I would come home at all hours of the night. She'd find some way to brush against her skin against mine to see the truth.

…

Serra

"Where?" I asked, talking to Miguel over the phone late one night in July. He and I were both out of school and itching for a hunt.

Miguel's voice was tinny, sounding too far away. "La Grange, Georgia," he explained. "But I don't think I can get Santi to go. He's in deep with this girl from Utah."

I gasped mockingly, "Santiago has a girlfriend?"

"I know. I never thought he'd get over your sister."

Laughing, I rolled to my belly and stretched out on my bed. "I don't know if he was ever _under_ my sister," I muttered, "Grace was too busy worrying about me to notice."

"Touché," Miguel answered. "Anyway, Rosa and Carlos were talking about going, but they got hit hard by the wolves they took on in Montana, so you're the only other close hunter family. What do you think?"

Rolling the question around in my head, I pursed my lips. Grace wouldn't want to go after Southern vampires. They tended to be larger than normal, faster than usual, and harder to kill. Of course, that just made me want them even more. "I'll see what I can do," I explained. "I'll keep you posted."

Miguel hung up the phone and I rolled to the side, staring out my window. The warm July breeze blew the tall, overgrown bushes against the house and I took a deep breath, suddenly missing Dad. He would have hacked those bushes down to nubs, making sure that nothing deadly could easily scale the wall to get to me. Now, renegade bushes were hardly a priority. I sighed, my thoughts shifting to how to bring up the conversation about Georgia to Grace.

I skipped down the stairs lightly and found Grace carrying a load of laundry to the laundry room. She was humming "Smoke on the Water" to herself as she poured detergent into the machine and dumped her clothes in. I smiled lightly, thinking that it was the most calm I had seen my sister in months. She was taking a summer break from school so she could focus on working and earning as much money as she could to keep us afloat when she headed back to the university in the fall.

I hesitated, holding my tongue. Grace was in such a good mood, I knew that bringing up hunting the Southern vamps would just get her all worked up, so I took a deep breath and changed my trajectory, instead walking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator door.

"What were you going to ask me?" Grace's voice startled me.

"What? Nothing. I'm in here for a Diet Coke."

Narrowing her eyes, my sister stared at me for longer than I felt was necessary and I knew she was suspicious. Grace had a ridiculous intuition and knew, without me even looking at her, that I was hiding something.

I shook my head, "Don't worry about it, Gracie," I soothed. "It's not important."

Grace took a deep breath and looked as if she was going to let it go, but as I bent to get the Diet Coke out of the open refrigerator, she reached out quicker than I would have anticipated, touching the exposed skin of my back as my shirt lifted up. I tried pulling away, hitting my head on the freezer as I stood up and stepped away from my stupid psychic sister, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

Tilting her head, Grace took a deep breath through her nose. "Vampires? Really?" she asked. "Can't you find something constructive to do? Like get a job?"

"Aw, Gracie," I rolled my eyes and closed the door of the fridge, holding the can of soda. "I didn't bring it up because you were all happy. Now you're gonna be all pissy because I want to hunt them." I clicked my tongue and opened my Diet Coke. "That's really low, by the way. Cheater."

Grace allowed me to step by as she rubbed her face with both of her hands. "It's the only way I know you're telling the truth," she sighed. "Look, I don't care about hunting the vamps. We can go, but not until Saturday. I have three days off in a row, so I won't miss any work."

"Wait, what?"

"If you're going after the Southerners, though, you're gonna need to prove to me that you can be faster than they are."

I could feel my mouth fall open at the idea that Grace wasn't fighting me on wanting to go to Georgia. "Why are you suddenly fine with us going?"

Grace shrugged and turned back to the laundry basket she had tossed onto the floor. "Because I know you'll go one way or another, but at least this way, we'll be together and I'll feel a little bit better about the situation." She glanced at me as she headed for the stairs. "And put some pants on."

I looked down at myself and laughed, forgetting that I wore only black underwear and a Batman tee-shirt. "Yeah, yeah," I muttered, shaking my head. "My belly isn't showing."

"Your ass is," she answered. "Be a lady."

Following my sister up the steps, I shook my head, mystified that she could be so angry still at someone that she was exactly like. No wonder she didn't get along with Daddy. They had been identical.

…

Serra

"We'll be on our way down to Georgia on Saturday," I relayed to Miguel when he picked up the phone later that night. "It was way easier to convince her than I thought it would be."

Miguel grunted, sounding like he was in pain. "That's three days away," he muttered. "We need you down here now."

"Why? What's wrong?"

He took a long time to answer, still sounding like he was trying to get comfortable. "They're Southern," he began, sighing loudly into the phone.

I held my breath, hardly daring to breathe, "Did you get bit?"

"No," he replied. I closed my eyes, grateful. "But they're definitely kicking our asses," Miguel continued. "Rosa got thrown through the windshield of Santi's truck. She's got three broken ribs, a broken clavicle, and a fractured L3, whatever that means." He sighed, sounding like he was rubbing his face, "She's out of commission and Carlos won't leave her side. It's just me, Diego, and Alejandro now, but even then, Diego got beat pretty hard last night, so I don't know how much good he'll do."

"Jesus, Miguel," I shook my head. "I might be able to convince her to get down there sooner, but what if I just came early?"

"That's no good for anyone," Miguel had a grin in his voice, making a joke.

"It'd be good for me."

Miguel laughed, but sucked a breath through his teeth, obviously in pain. "So selfish," he chuckled.

"I told you I was mean," I smiled. "I'll try to be there as soon as I can."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Serra

Our relationship must be getting healthier, or more trusting, or some other psychological bullshit, because without much effort, I was able to convince Grace that I could go down to Georgia ahead of her, set up with Miguel and the others, and start hunting the vampires.

I was packing my duffle, throwing jeans and my black leather jacket into the bag, but realizing that it was July in Georgia, I pulled out the leather and rolled a couple of tee-shirts together, stuffing them on top of the other clothes. Digging in the bottom of the trunk at the foot of my bed, I pulled out two boxes of pure silver bullets for the Twins. I also found the eight inch silver knife, sheathed in what used to be a ruby-encrusted hilt.

I chose to leave the machete with Grace, along with the last box of silver forty-five ammo as well. I couldn't have my big sister weaponless, though I hardly worried that she would be unarmed. My sister tended to be the less angry of the two of us, but sometimes I wondered if she had the ability to take out a monster with her bare hands.

It really wouldn't have surprised me.

"Grace!" I shouted, not turning towards the door.

"I'm downstairs!" she answered, her voice barely carrying through the house.

Grabbing my bag and my leather purse, I shouldered it all and tucked my guns into their holsters. I shoved my pocket knife into my bra and grabbed my forty-five slug out of the dish on my dresser, shoving it into my jeans pocket, and headed out of my room, flicking off the light as I left.

"This is the last of the silver forty-five ammo," I explained as I dumped my bags at the front door. "The machete is still in the garage and I think there're a couple of silver blades in there, too. Are you bringing the Winchester?"

Grace shook her head, watching my carefully. "No," she answered. "I'll be in the thick of it too; if there's anything left by the time I get down there."

I smiled up at my sister, nodding once. "Okay, then I'll see you on Saturday."

"Yeah," Grace answered, still staring at me oddly.

"What is it?"

She broke eye contact and took a deep breath, looking at the box of bullets interestedly, playing for time. "Nothing, Lucky," she muttered, her cheeks flushing. "Don't worry about it."

"I can't cheat by touching you, you know," I commented, folding my arms in front of my chest. "You gotta spill or I can't leave."

Smiling as she stared at the table, Grace shook her head. "I had a weird dream, is all," she replied softly. "About you in Georgia."

"What happens?"

She took a deep breath and shrugged, looking embarrassed. Closing her eyes and hating herself for saying it, Grace finally said, "Use protection, please."

"What?" I laughed, bending at the waist. "How awful was that to watch?"

She pursed her lips. "Pretty awful," she countered, nodding. "I woke up before it got too graphic, thank God."

Shaking my head, I turned towards the front door, scooping up the handles to my duffle and purse. "You take all the fun out of trying to have sex," I giggled. "Nothing is sacred."

Grace held up both of her hands, palms out, and shook her head. "Stop, stop," she laughed. "My brain is trying to push more into my mind's eye and I'm doing everything I can to stop it. Don't talk about it."

"I'll make sure to let Miguel know," I snorted. "Make sure he knows you've got a smutty mind."

"Go away!"

I closed the door and headed to my Acura, popping the trunk and tossing in my stuff. Still laughing, I shook my head as I started the engine. My overly-talented sister needed to keep her psychic stuff out of my love life.

…

Grace

Serra closed the front door and I sighed heavily, trying to force the images of her and Miguel out of my mind's eye, but it was next to impossible. When my abilities got a hold of an idea, it was hard to shake it loose until I committed and watched the entire dream. Unfortunately, this particular vision was a little too vivid and I did _not_ need details of Serra and Miguel _together_.

Turning and heading upstairs to finish getting ready for work, I did everything in my power to ignore the dream and continue about my day. I would see them on Saturday and they would have screwed it out by then, so hopefully, the dream would pass without me having to live it for too long. I shuddered for good measure, seeing Serra take off Miguel's shirt once more.

"Ugh," I whispered. "Gross."

…

Serra

Getting out of the car, I had to force myself to take a deep breath of hot, wet air. Georgia in July was _stifling_. I shrugged out of my flannel and wrapped my hair into a high, messy bun to avoid the sweat that began dripping down the back of my neck.

The motel where I would meet Miguel was tiny and run down, not unlike all of the other hunter-friendly motels. There were only about six parking spaces in the front lot, but around the back, I could see the collection of old Chevy and Ford trucks from the hunters I was about to meet up with. Miguel must have seen me through the window of his room, because before I knew it, he was jogging to me and scooping me into a hug.

"Ugh, get off, get off," I cried. "It's so gross here."

Miguel laughed, letting go of me. "We've got the air cranked inside," he grinned. "I know what you like."

"That'a boy," I giggled, reaching for my duffle. I opted to leave the boxes of ammunition in the trunk, along with the knives. Slinging my gun holster over my shoulder, I turned to follow Miguel into the motel room.

The group of hunters that were staying with Miguel looked up to greet me, but I only recognized Diego. He was tall and lanky, with long dark hair that was tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck, reminding me too much of Santiago. The family resemblance in the Adaka'i boys was apparent, even though Diego and Alejandro were cousins to Miguel and Santi, not siblings.

"Hello, Serendipity," Diego nodded his head. "I am glad to see you doing well."

"Hey, Diego," I answered, fighting my urge to tell him not to call me that. "Good to see you, too." I glanced around the room at the maps and the pushpins, labeling the movement of the vampires. "Heard you guys could use an extra set of hands."

Nodding, Diego turned back to the computer and sighed. "Yes," he began; his deep voice soothing and quiet. "There are more than we anticipated and they have started moving and hunting as a unit, not independently. They are fighting back in ways we were unprepared for."

"Yikes," I muttered, shaking my head. "Well, I'm here. Grace'll be here on Saturday if we haven't taken care of them yet." I glanced at Miguel, remembering the dream my sister had and laughed silently. "And do I have a story for you."

Miguel wrapped his arm around my shoulder, holding me close. "I'll bet you do. Finally," he breathed into my hair, "Some time without the watch dog."

"Did you just call my sister a bitch?" I glanced up at him, suppressing a grin.

He looked around, searching for the right answer, "No?" he asked.

I laughed and pulled him towards the door again, "Come on," I muttered. "Let's go shoot something."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Serra

I sat on the open trunk of my car, watching Miguel tie the flannel he wore around his waist, and focused on the ropes of muscle that had developed in his upper arms. Licking my lips, I looked down, trying to play this as cool as I could. We hadn't spent much time together since the ghoul hunt, months ago, and even then, that time had been heavily supervised.

This time, I had three days before Grace showed up.

"So," Miguel started, loading a clip into his own forty-five. "You look good."

The corners of my mouth betrayed me, pulling into a grin. "I know," I answered. "So do you."

He nodded, clicking the safety off of his gun. "I know," he replied, winking. "I hear you've gotten to be even more of a hotshot." Miguel shook his head slowly, staring out into the wilderness behind us. "Though, I dunno how that could be possible. You were damn scary in Oklahoma."

"I practice a lot," I sighed.

Nodding, Miguel took a deep breath and leaned towards me. "What's this story you have to tell me?"

A laugh exploded out of me, remembering how embarrassed Grace had been after her dream. "Grace had one of those psychic dreams she has, about us," I explained with a grin. "Said she was glad she woke up when she did, before it got way graphic."

"Oh," Miguel lifted his eyebrows and smiled, forcing his deep dimples to show. "Intriguing. She told you about it?"

"Not willingly," I giggled. "She was all red-faced and staring at the table. So humiliated."

Miguel ran a hand through his hair and watched as an egret landed in the river behind us. "Well," he sighed, touching my leg and leaning close. "Let's not disappoint her."

Closing the gap between our faces, Miguel kissed me deeply. Breathing through my nose, I couldn't help but smile as he adjusted his position, almost pushing me into the trunk of my car. "Whoa," I broke away, laughing. "Let's not fall into the bayou."

"I dunno," Miguel answered, shaking his head. "I'd still be just as damp."

"Please tell me you have your own room."

Taking my hand, Miguel led me to the passenger side of my car, opening the door and allowing me to climb in. "Not yet," he muttered, closing the door. Jogging around to the driver's side of my Acura, he turned the key and threw it into reverse, heading back to the motel.

...

Serra

Miguel had matured and it was good.

I had been around a bit since the first time we had been together; looking for ways to pay for meals, one-night stands, a few casual boyfriends here and there, but Miguel had always had a special place in my heart as my first. He was passionate and tender, paying close attention to me and my reactions at all times. By the time we were done, the air conditioner had forced the temperature down to sixty-eight degrees, and I was almost cold. Using the sheet, I wrapped myself up and got comfortable on my stomach, staring at Miguel's face as he napped.

There were new scars nestled into his five o'clock shadow and a jagged one above his left eye. His right hand was still bandaged from the first unsuccessful night with the fangs, and he had another bandage across his ribs, below his tattoo. I fought the urge to touch him, not wanting to wake him. Slowly, I rolled out of bed, tip-toed to the bathroom and got dressed. I was hungry and I had seen a burger joint not too far from the motel.

Scrawling a note to Miguel, I left it on my side of the bed, grabbed my bag and my guns, and gently closed the door behind me. It was well past midnight and the muggy July air hung around me like a mist. I checked the clips in my guns, making sure I was loaded with silver in case the vampires we were hunting decided to start hunting me. Swiping my already wet brow, I dug in my purse and found my keys, but never stopped listening for sounds in the world around me. I would never let my guard down.

The burger place was farther away than I remembered and it took almost ten minutes to find it, but finally, I pulled into the parking lot and made my way across the empty pavement. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, like they did when I felt someone watching me, so I turned to scan the empty parking lot.

There was no one there that I could see, anyway.

I took a couple more steps towards the restaurant and the antsy, anxious feeling didn't leave my gut. With my instincts kicking in, I pulled my right hand Twin and spun, raising my weapon into the heavy night air. I came face to face with a tall, dark complexioned man. He had a goatee and was wearing a crisp three-piece suit with a deep burgundy tie. Clicking the safety off my gun, I stared at him, unblinking.

"Good evening, Serendipity," his deep southern drawl was smooth as silk. "After so many stories about the Browning sisters, I assure you, it is my deepest pleasure."

I took a deep breath, waiting for the attack, but it never came. He stood calmly in front of me, waiting for me to speak. "Who the fuck are you?" I asked, not lowering my gun.

In an instant, his eyes blinked blood red.

I forced myself to hold my ground, taking a deep breath and shaking my head. "What are you?" I asked, rephrasing my question. I took a deep breath, playing the night Daddy was murdered in my head. "You're a demon," I whispered, remembering the demon that took Daddy's life. "A Crossroads Demon."

"Let it never be said that you are slow," he sighed, smiling gently. "I am not here to hurt you, Serendipity," he continued. "You can lower the weapon."

"I really don't think so."

"So be it," the demon continued, lacing his fingers together. "You can listen to my proposition while holding the gun if it makes you feel safer, somehow."

I waited.

"My name is Knox," he continued, "and I've heard so much. There have been rumors for years about you and your sister…and I've gotten so very curious about you."

I took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying very hard not to simply pull the trigger. "Rumors?" I asked, buying time. "What kind of rumors?"

Knox made a face and shrugged halfheartedly and put his hands in his trouser pockets casually. "That's for me to know, right now. The point is; you have a very specific set of skills that I would be more than happy to capitalize on."

"You want to make a deal," I stated, taking a step back. "You can go fuck yourself."

Smiling coyly, Knox blinked his large, dark eyes knowingly. "Ah, of course," he soothed. "Your ever-present Daddy issues." He clicked his tongue as he turned and began pacing slowly in front of me. "Truman Browning made a deal, eventually losing his life and his soul, to save his baby girl. A hero among men, to be sure."

I could feel myself lowering my gun, though I fought the urge. I had to know what this demon wanted to tell me. What could I possibly have, that a demon would want?

"You have plenty of things I could want," he answered, smiling softly at me and flicking his dark gaze to meet mine.

"You can read minds," I offered sarcastically. "That's a neat trick. I've _never_ seen _that_ before."

Knox nodded slowly and chuckled, mostly to himself. "Oh, yes, Grace Browning: the by-touch psychic. She has her own set of skills as well." He turned towards me again and winked, "Alas, the only Browning sister I am interested in right now is _you_."

With my gun hanging loosely at my side and my hunger forgotten, I tilted my head. "What do I have that you could possibly want?"

"Your loyalty."

"My soul," I restated, shaking my head.

Knox made another face, shrugging again. "Linguistics," he replied. "I'm more interested in your abilities as a warrior. Your soul would belong to me, yes," he smiled, bringing one of his hands out of his pocket. "But you'd still have your freedom to be here, above ground, doing errands for me."

"I'm not going to be loyal to you. I'm definitely no errand-girl. There is no way in hell I'm making a deal for my soul." I made the move to walk away, pivoting on the toe of my boot and determined to make it back to my car.

The demon side-stepped me; blocking my path, but held his hands out in a defensive posture. "It's not a deal unless you agree to the terms. Don't you want to hear what you could get if you win the wager?"

I stopped in my tracks, turning slowly towards the Crossroads Demon that stood before me. "You said 'deal', now you're saying 'wager'," I accused. "Which is it?"

"I've heard," Knox smiled and approached slowly, his alligator skin shoes clicking on the pavement with each step he took, "that you are one hell of a shot."

Staring at him, I made no effort to change my facial expression, so he continued.

"Well, in my human life, I was a sharpshooter as well," Knox took a deep breath, pocketing his hands once more. "I was a commander and sniper in the confederate army once upon a time, and had to work with worthless shit like muskets and ball ammunition. These days," he chuckled, "the technology you have makes it hard to miss."

I rolled my eyes, struggling not to raise my gun again. "And?" I prompted.

"And, I would love to make a deal with you," he continued. "A battle of sorts: five bullets, shooting at the same target. The best cluster of shots, wins."

I was already shaking my head. "Absolutely not. You think I'm stupid enough to make a bet that I'm a better shot than you? A demon?" I laughed and turned to walk away. "Liars, cheaters…it wouldn't even be a fair fight."

"What if I guaranteed a fair fight?"

I stopped walking and hesitated, unwilling to commit to turning around.

"I shoot as a human. I suspend my powers as a demon and shoot purely in flesh and bone, binding in the contract," Knox explained. "There would be no cheating, no lying. It would be warrior against warrior."

Still, I remained frozen where I was. I couldn't entertain the idea that I would be dumb enough to make a deal with the devil, but the buzzing in my mind was too much to ignore. There was a pull towards this guy that I couldn't shake. I heard movement behind me and finally, my curiosity got the best of me. Slowly, I turned around, watching the demon's movements very carefully.

In his hands, he held a leather satchel and not breaking eye contact with me, Knox lifted the flap of the bag to reveal its contents. I couldn't help myself. I took a step closer to try and see what was inside.

If a stone could call out to me, that's what I felt this one was doing. There, inside the leather bag, was a silvery gray stone, etched with writing I couldn't identify, that glowed every so faintly blue. It seemed to pulse, pulling me towards it and I had to stop myself from reaching out and touching it.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"The prize for our wager, should you win."

I took a sudden, deep, ragged breath as I tried not to punch Knox right in the face and take it from him. I couldn't explain it but I _had _to have that stone.

"If you win, you get my soul," I ventured, stepping closer to the bag with the stone. I pulled my gaze away from the bag and forced myself to make eye contact with the red-eyed demon. "And if I win," I took a slow breath, "I get that stone. No cheating. No lying. Human against human."

"That's the idea," Knox replied. "I'm glad to see you recognize how useful this stone is."

I didn't reply, but instead, stared back at the rock.

Finally, I took another breath, "And who decides who wins?"

The demon shrugged. "We're both adults," he sighed. "I'm sure we'll be able to figure it out."

I could almost hear Grace screaming at me from nine hundred miles away, but it was as if I had been taken hostage by the call of that stone. I knew I could win. I _knew_ I would beat him. I steeled myself as I extended my hand to shake.

"You're on."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Grace

I woke up suddenly, sweaty and panicked, and forgetting momentarily that I was safe at home in my bed. Closing my eyes, I replayed the dream I had been having—it was a continuation of the dream I had been telling Serra about earlier, before she left to hunt vampires with Miguel.

Shaking off the graphic, too much full-frontal part, I tried to move forward, into the new part of the vision. Serra had been talking to a tall, well-dressed man about a stone. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was a demon, and that he was there to make a deal.

I rolled to the other end of the bed, reaching for my phone. I dialed Serra's number and listened, trying my best to be patient as it rang over and over again. "Come on, Lucky," I whispered. "Answer the phone."

Finally, it stopped ringing. "If I didn't answer, I don't wanna talk to you," Serra's voicemail message began.

I rolled my eyes and hung up my phone, shaking my head slowly. "So rude," I muttered, redialing her number. It began ringing again, over and over again and after the seventh one, finally went to voicemail again. "If I didn't answer—"

Pressing 'end', I hung up the phone and took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. I knew that Serra and Miguel were together. I knew they had probably been…physical the entire time she had been down there. I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the images that floated through my mind once more. This was definitely on my list for worst reasons to be a psychic.

Dialing Miguel's number, I changed tactics.

Ringing only twice, Miguel's voice answered, slightly groggy and sleepy. "Yeah?" he grumbled.

"Miguel," I breathed. "Thank you for answering your phone. Tell me Serra is with you."

I could hear the feedback of Miguel rustling in the sheets as he rolled over in bed. "Grace?" he asked. "Yeah, I mean," he hesitated for longer than I felt comfortable. "She was."

My heart pounded in my chest. "Was?" I whispered.

"There's a note," he continued. "Says she went to grab some burgers." The static from his side of the line told me that he was rubbing his face. "What's the matter?"

I shook my head, closing my eyes. If Serra and Miguel weren't together at this very moment, my anxiety was sky high. "How long ago?" I asked, ignoring his question.

Miguel moved again. "I dunno, Grace," he began. "Her side is still kinda warm. Does that help?"

Nodding and exhaling slowly, I closed my eyes again, grateful that I had someone on that end. "Actually, yeah," I replied. "Yeah, that helps. Where's her phone? She's not answering."

"Demanding tonight, aren't you?" Miguel grunted as he got up out of bed and meandered towards the dresser. "Yeah, it's here," he continued. "It's on 'do not disturb'."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course it is," I sighed. "Alright. Do me a favor," I continued, "Call or text me when she gets back, please? I'm gonna have a coronary."

"What's going on, Grace?"

Shaking my head, I sighed again, "Just another one of those psychic things, Miguel."

Miguel sounded more awake; his voice was concerned. "Should I be getting dressed to go out and look for her?"

"Give her some time," I answered, silently wishing away my abilities. "Maybe it was just a dream."

"It's never just a dream, Grace."

"I know."

…

Serra

I watched Knox carefully as he led me to an open field behind the burger joint I had hoped on going to. We sealed the contract and wager by kissing (I would never get why that was a signature of a Crossroads), and I did my best to shake off the disgust from making out with a demon as I followed closely behind. I comforted myself by promising to get big bacon cheeseburgers for both me and Miguel after I won.

I could feel the Grace's bullet bouncing against my leg in the pajama pants I wore, spurring me on. I knew I would beat him. I knew I would be able to bring that stone home and figure out why I was so drawn to it. It was already mine.

_Doubt me,_ I chanted internally as I followed the demon. _Doubt me, and see what happens._

We reached the field and immediately, a confident calm fell over me as silence filled the field. It seemed that the entire area was under a spell; not even crickets were chirping in the hot, heavy humidity. I glanced at Knox as he undid the button on his suit jacket and carefully laid it in the regal chair that had appeared behind him, sitting next to the hickory tree stump. Just as cautiously, he rolled the crisp, white sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and pulled an elegant revolver from the holster under his arm.

Extending the revolver to me, he nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead and take it," Knox reassured. "I want you to inspect it and ensure that it is simply a gun. There are no tricks, no spells. This is completely skill against skill."

I did as I was told and flipped the revolver open, checking that the bullets were simply bullets. There didn't seem to be anything inscribed on them or etched into the barrel. The Smith and Wesson forty-five caliber reminded me of the cowboy guns you saw in the movies, complete with a pearl handle and a mirror shine. I was impressed.

"It's very elegant," I complimented.

"And very regular," Knox agreed. "I picked this beauty up in another wager, years before you were born."

I pressed my lips together and nodded. "I take it you don't need to inspect my guns," I commented. "Considering you came to me."

Knox nodded slowly, taking his gun back, "Correct. Your guns are perfectly acceptable."

"I know," I couldn't help the attitude that seeped into my voice.

"Here are the rules," Knox began, ignoring my retort. "The target," he waved his hand and a large, circular target appeared fifty yards away, "will absorb our bullets and keep them to compare. You will get a target and I will get a target. Best of five shots will win."

"Five," I repeated. "Why five? Why not four? Or eight?"

"And give you the advantage of your signature?" Knox clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly. "Cheating, cheating, cheating."

"How do I know it's not _your_ signature?"

"I assure you," Knox replied, clasping his hands. "It's not. We both shoot in even numbers. Five is odd, awkward, and will efficiently test our skill."

Nodding, I took a deep breath through my nose, steadying my nerves. "Alright," I gestured to the target. "Show me what you've got, sharpshooter, but I'll tell you right now, I'm the best that's ever been."

"We'll see." The demon took a deep breath and gestured to the classy, cushy chair. "If you'd like to sit in comfort?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"No, thanks," I narrowed my eyes. "I think I'll stand."

Turning to the target, Knox took a deep breath and nodded, readying himself for the contest. I watched carefully as he went through his preparation to shoot. It was obviously a ritualized habit that he had developed over millennia of shooting varying weapons. Swinging his arm back and forth, he cocked the revolver and rolled his head from side to side, closing his eyes and breathing slowly through his nose. As I watched, I took the time to notice that his shoulders were broad; barely contained by the crisp, white dress shirt he wore. If I wasn't so concerned with winning this bet, I would be mildly attracted to the demon in front of me.

Firing his first shot, Knox exhaled sharply as the bullet found its target, lodging itself deeply in the thick target fifty yards in front of it. I narrowed my eyes, confirming that he had hit the inner ring of the bull's eye, but hadn't pierced the center. Licking my lips, I took a shallow breath, waiting eagerly for him to take his next shot.

This time, Knox breathed slowly in through his nose, lifting his gun with his right hand and exhaling lightly, firing twice back to back. I knew what he was doing; trying to give himself the advantage by firing in even numbers, hoping to fall into a muscle-memory fueled success. Tilting my head, I glanced around his shoulder, watching the bullets find their target, just a breath away from the center of the bull's eye. Swallowing hard, I did everything I could to contain my disappointment. Those two had been pretty close to perfect.

Knox hadn't moved from his spot on the ground, easily three inches back from the line he had drawn in the dirt with his pointed, alligator skin shoes. Taking a final deep breath in, he steadied his arm and waited, breathing slowly and squeezing the trigger twice more. I closed my eyes, hearing Grace in my head once more.

_How could you be so stupid?_ Her voice was pleading and I shook it off, trying to ignore the terror that had lit in the depths of my belly. _A deal with a Crossroads Demon,_ Grace's overly-matronly voice echoed in my head. _You're no better than Daddy._

I opened my eyes, trying to ignore the voice, and finding the last two holes in Knox's target. They were hairs to the left of center. I licked my lips, staring at the dirt line on the ground and suppressed a smile. The voice in my head that sounded too much like my sister was replaced with my own; _I'm the best that's ever been._

"Well," I sighed, tilting my head and looking up at the demon. "That was pretty good, I'm not gonna lie. I was nervous there for a second."

Knox smiled broadly, taking a step away from the line and holstering his pistol. "For a second?" he repeated, his deep voice surprised.

"Yeah," I agreed, dropping my holster onto the hickory stump beside me. Shoving my left hand into my pocket to squeeze Grace's bullet that settled there, I chose my right hand Twin and flicked the safety off, looking at it long enough to smile, "But you know what? Sit down in that chair right there and lemme show you how it's done."

Knox grinned wickedly as I turned, closing my eyes.

I opened both of my eyes and watched as the demon replaced the target with a brand new one, exactly where the old one had been. I spun, ensuring that his target had not disappeared. Knox rested his arm on it, holding it upright next to his chair, and watched calmly as I turned back to my fresh one.

_Go ahead, baby,_ I breathed, _doubt me._

Raising my gun, I took another deep breath and every ounce of self-doubt was replaced by utter confidence. I kept both eyes open as the muscles in my arm pulled my hand into an aim without thinking. My body knew the dance; I just needed to give myself permission to play the music. With a heavy sigh though my nose, I squeezed the trigger and fired my first shot.

It found its target and landed dead-center in the middle of the bull's eye with a satisfying thud.

I didn't give myself permission to celebrate or change my grip. As I inhaled, I knew the only way to win was to trust my gut. I was a warrior. This is what I lived and breathed.

I fired four times in rapid succession, keeping both of my eyes open and watched each bullet find its way to where it needed to be. The sound of bullet hitting target changed: each one was metallic and as I pulled the trigger for the last time, I lowered my gun and let myself exhale.

There was one hole in the target in front of me.

Pressing my tongue to the back of my teeth, I closed my eyes slowly, knowing already that the bullets were stacked, one on top of another, five in a row.

I did it.

I won.

Turning towards the demon sitting in the luxurious chair behind me, I forced myself not to gloat or even smile. Knox wasn't looking at me, but instead was staring, open mouthed, at the target behind me. Slowly, he began shaking his head.

"No," he whispered, mostly to himself. "No, no, no." He let his head hang forward and rested his chin on his chest, still shaking his head.

"I'll tell you what," I whispered, getting close to Knox and bending down to face him. "Just come on back if you ever wanna try again," I leaned to pick up my holster and the leather satchel that sat in his lap, containing my prize. "I done told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best that's ever been."

Slowly, Knox lifted his head and stared at me, his deep red eyes boring into mine. I hesitated but held my ground, wondering if he would do or say anything, but with that, he disappeared on the spot, leaving me holding my gun and the leather bag.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I fell to my knees, supporting myself with my right hand and still clutching my gun. I held onto the leather bag just as tightly, realizing how close I had been to losing everything. I sat in the dirt, taking slow, deep breaths, and vowed that I would never be so stupid ever again.

Finally, I got to my feet and turned to the target that still stood in the middle of the field, fifty yards away. I had to see it. I wanted to touch it.

Clutching the leather bag close to my body, I made my way through the brush and held my breath, seeing the one hole in the center of the bull's eye, staring back at me. I reached into my bra, pulling out my switchblade, and dug into the target. Slowly, I inched out the stack of all five bullets, fused together into a neat column.

I smiled down at my palm and closed my fist tightly around the lead. _Never again,_ I repeated to myself. Opening my palm, I turned my hand and dumped the stack of fused lead to the ground and turned, not looking back. By the time I got to my car, the target had disappeared.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Serra

"Where the hell have you been?" Miguel asked, opening the motel room door before I had a chance to open it with my key card.

I furrowed my eyebrows and shook my head, "I went to get burgers!" I felt my voice going higher pitched than I meant to, but stared Miguel down just the same. "I left you a note!"

"Your sister called me," Miguel lectured. "You need to start taking your phone with you everywhere so you can deal with her, not me."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I yelled, holding up my hands and tossing the greasy brown bag onto the bed behind me. "Don't think you can start bossing me around just because we're fucking."

Miguel's eyebrows were in his hairline. "Bossing you around?" he squealed. "Your sister is one of the most terrifying people I have ever met. I will _not_ be the one she punishes because she can't find you after she has one of her visions."

My entire attitude changed as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "Vision?" I asked, completely lucid. "Grace had a vision?"

"Yeah," Miguel agreed, turning towards my phone and tossing it to me. "She called me in a panic because she had a vision about you. Wanted to know where you were and why we weren't together."

I glanced down at my phone with my heart in my throat. Grace could never find out that I made a bet with a Crossroads Demon. She would never forgive me and there was no way in hell she would ever let me out of her sight again. I would lose every bit of trust I had earned from my sister and there would be no going back. I had to call Grace, but somehow pull off the biggest lie I had ever told, and then, on top of it, bury what really happened forever, because if she touched me and saw the truth, it would be all over.

Flicking my eyes up to Miguel's dark gaze, I took a slow breath in my nose. "I'll be right back. She's overreacting because I'm not there." He didn't break eye contact so I nodded, "She's fine. I'm fine." I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes. "I got burgers and then got lost on the way back because I didn't have my phone. It's fine."

Shrugging, Miguel shook his head. "Don't piss her off, _likan_," he muttered, using the Navajo nickname he had for me. "I'd like to keep spending time with you."

I narrowed my eyes, "Don't get clingy," I commented, turning and heading back out into the parking lot to call my sister.

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out hard, I found that I was more nervous now than I had been with Knox, the demon. I had never been able to lie to Grace—what made me think I was somehow going to be able to pull it off now? I took another deep breath and leaned on the hood of my car, stretching out my neck and shaking my head slowly. This was insane.

Hold the phone up to my ear; I listened carefully as the other end rang. It barely finished ringing once and Grace answered, sounding breathless.

"Serra?" she whispered. "Are you okay?"

This was it. I put everything I had into the answer, "You are so controlling," I snapped. "I can't spend twenty-four hours away from you without you flipping out? I went to get food and forgot my phone." I rolled my eyes for good measure. "It was one in the morning. I didn't exactly expect any calls."

"Jesus, Serra, I get it," Grace replied, just as full of attitude. "But I had a vision and I wanted to make sure you were safe. Forgive me for wanting to make sure you're okay."

Blinking slowly, I took a silent breath. I was actually pulling this off. "Yeah, I'm fine," I started. "What vision? When did this happen?"

Grace took a breath and hesitated, "It was a continuation of what I saw before, but this time, passed the…stuff with Miguel, and I'm pretty sure you go out and make a deal with a Crossroads Demon."

"What?" I asked, completely convincing myself to be just as surprised as her. It wasn't difficult, considering it was astonishing to hear Grace see something she had no knowledge about. "I wouldn't ever be that stupid," I finished, shaking my head. "You know that."

Clicking her tongue, Grace paused long enough to make me doubt my own story. "I know you wouldn't be," she finally sighed, allowing me to release the breath I was holding. "I'm just telling you what I saw. I'm hoping it was just a dream—my brain saw you with Miguel and then you left and met up with a demon."

I grit my teeth, holding the truth as deeply as I could, swallowing hard. "I'm telling you Grace, I'm no moron. There's no way in hell that I would ever do something as dumb as make a deal." I pleaded with her, "You've gotta believe me." I closed my eyes, waiting for the verdict.

"I know, Little," she agreed. "Just stick with Miguel, will you please? It'll make me feel better."

I was already nodding. "Yeah, of course. Maybe we'll so some more stuff to make you uncomfortable."

"Gross."

Taking another breath, I blinked slowly, wondering how the hell I was able to convince my psychic sister that I was telling the truth. I glanced at my reflection and was happy that we were doing this over the phone, because sweat was glistening in the moonlight on my forehead, and it wasn't just from the Georgia heat.

Refocusing my gaze through the window, my eyes landed on my prize, still wrapped in the leather bag. "Okay," I sighed, "are we done?"

"Yeah," Grace yawned. "Stay with Miguel and the others."

"Yeah, I got it."

Clicking her tongue, I knew Grace rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'll see you on Saturday."

"Try not to flip out again before then," I added for good measure. "We might not even need you down here, you know. They've got me now, so we'll probably wrap this up tomorrow." I smiled at the stone in the back seat of my car. "After all, I'm the best that's ever been."

"Don't get cocky."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"There is nothing more unforgivable than an infallible plan gone awry," the heavily nasal-voiced demon began as he tightened the leather straps across Knox's arms, chest, hands, and feet. "That Stone was one of only seven in the entire universe and you…" He stood above Knox and gagged him with a leather mouth piece, "You lost it."

Knox's eyes widened as he shook his head, panicked.

"That little bitch," the torturer sighed. "Now she has a Stone. As soon as she touches it, it will pledge its loyalty and we are back to having _nothing_." He clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly in disappointment. "You had _one simple job,"_ he continued. "And you underestimated a _fucking_ _Warrior of Heaven_."

Alastair leaned towards Knox, taking a breath in through his nose, very slowly. "I can smell your desperate fear," he growled, lowering his voice and taking his time staring at his victim. "By the time we are done, you are going to wish for the end." He picked up a long, thin, needle-like blade and allowed it to rest on Knox's face, just below his right eye. "You just destroyed decades of planning. This," he sighed. "This is going to hurt."

As Alastair began his work, Knox's muffled screams could be heard down the stone hallways and labyrinths of Hell.

…

Serra

I hung up the phone with Grace and closed my eyes, sighing in relief. Somehow, I had managed to convince her that nothing had happened, so much in fact, that if the stone hadn't been sitting in the backseat of my car, I would have started to believe it myself.

Opening the door and munching on a French fry, I took a deep breath in through my nose. I had no idea what this rock was or what to do with it, but I felt a connection to it the same way I felt a connection to my guns. I knew this stone was mine. I could feel it in the air. I just didn't know why.

Reaching out to touch the leather bag it was nestled safely in, I opened the flap to stare at the engravings. It was in a language I didn't recognize, but I was almost positive that Grace would. She knew everything. I wracked my brain, trying to think of someone else that would know as much about ancient languages as Grace and finally smiled to myself, thinking of our friend Billy.

Bill Griffin owned the only hunter-friendly pawnshop this side of the Mississippi and I knew he would know what to do. And, as a bonus, I knew he'd keep the secret safe from my sister. I could trust him. Glancing at the time on my phone, I clicked my tongue. This was no emergency and it was after two in the morning. I could be patient and polite, waiting at least until the sun rose.

Leaning down to the rock, I could feel the pulse seemingly get stronger. As I watched, the stone itself seemed to be happy to see me; glowing a light blue through the etchings as I approached. The draw was too deep; I had to reach out and touch it with my bare hand.

It was like touching something charged with static electricity, except I received no shock. All of the tiny hairs on my arms stood on end as I made contact, forcing me to shiver. As soon as I rested my hand on it, the pulse ceased, and the stone seemed to be content.

"What the hell is this?" I whispered to no one in particular.

…

Serra

The sun rose around six-oh-six that morning. I knew because I was awake to see it, never having settled enough to actually fall asleep. Last night had been a blur: between having sex until all hours of the night, the Crossroads Demon, lying to Grace, and the stone, I knew I was much too strung out to hunt vampires. If I went with Miguel and Diego into the coven, I would end up getting someone killed. I made a face at my own maturity—who had I become?

Slowly, I turned my head to watch Miguel sleep. It pained me to leave, but the plan I had formulated while I had laid awake was begging to be put into place. I had to get to Billy's and back before Grace had a chance to get down here to Georgia.

Padding to my side of the bed, I let the second note of the night float to my pillow, then, without another breath, I turned and silently closed the motel room door behind me. The Adaka'i boys had two choices: continue the hunt without me for the next two days, or hang out and take it easy, and wait for me and Grace to end up meeting back in Georgia to help.

I really hoped they weren't too stupid to wait.

Turning the key of my Acura, I took a deep breath and listened to the phone ring. He picked up, sounding groggy on the fourth ring.

"Yeah?" he growled into the speaker.

I took a deep breath, "Hi, Billy," I began cautiously. "I need a favor."

…

Serra

The 'Welcome to Deerhead' sign was full of bullet holes and was rusted out from decades of neglect. Shaking my head, I took a deep breath; I was now sixteen hours away from where I was supposed to be, with my sister driving the opposite direction in less than eighteen hours. Everything I planned in the next three hours had to go as planned or I would be S.O.L.

Driving past the McDonald's and the one and only gas station, I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the possible lecture I'd get from Billy. I had blurted out almost the entire story about Knox the Crossroads Demon, the stone, lying to Grace, and how I needed a place to put the rock until I figured out what to do, over the phone with Billy before he even knew it was me.

He had done exactly what I knew he would; told me to calm down, come to Deerhead, and to bring the rock with me. Now, down to my last six dollars and a quarter tank of gas, I pulled into the gravel parking lot and sat next to Billy's old Dodge truck.

I sat in the driver's seat, trying to practice in my head what I would say when he asked me what I was thinking. I shook my head, considering the answer was still evading me—I had no idea what I had been thinking when Knox walked up to me in that parking lot with a proposition. My mind had been so focused on the call of the stone that I didn't think of anything. My mind had been completely blank.

Finally, I looked up and stared at the glass door to the pawn and watched it open. Billy tilted his head at me and smiled lightly, lifting his eyebrows and waiting for me to get out of the car. He gestured to the door of the shop and I couldn't hear him, but I could read his lips as he asked, "Are you coming or not?"

I took a deep breath and gathered myself, preparing for the conversation that was coming. Opening my door, I tripped on the doorframe, not quite picking up my feet all the way and catching the side of my boot on the door. Bill smiled as I shook my head and laughed to myself, wondering how I ever made it out alive from a hunt. I grabbed my new prize, clutching the leather satchel to my chest and slammed the driver's side door of my Acura.

"Hey, there, renegade," Billy chuckled, holding out his arm to hug me. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

I began shaking my head, taking a deep breath and smiling through my nervousness. "I've got three hours, Billy," I stuttered. "First of all, you gotta promise: this never happened. This conversation, this visit, the bet…" I was close to panicked. "Grace can never know about any of it."

Opening the door for me, Bill laughed, "I don't know about that, kiddo," he sighed, following me into the store. "Having secrets is something Grace isn't used to." He leaned on the glass counter, watching me put the leather bag on top. "Besides, I hardly see her. Holding it in isn't something I'm gonna have to do. How are you going to keep this together around her?"

I was already shaking my head. "I don't know yet, Bill, but you gotta help me. Please."

"What am I helping you do?"

Slowly, I reached up to the leather bag and opened it, showing Bill the rock I was so desperately attached to. Watching me, Billy slowly turned to inspect the stone. He reached out, but suddenly, I pulled it away from him, shaking my head. "Please don't touch it," I whispered.

"What?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "Why not?"

I stepped from one foot to the other, I searched for a way to explain it to the man that had basically replaced our dad. "Because it's mine. And I love it."

"You love it," he repeated doubtfully. Billy folded his arms and stared at me, trying to figure out if I was drunk or just stupid. "Serra," he sighed. "Maybe you should try explaining it all to me again."

"Billy, look," I held out my hands and shook my fingers, bouncing on the balls of my feet in frustration. "I know. I know how crazy this all sounds, but that stone, I can't explain why, but that rock is mine. It's pledged its allegiance to me, whatever that means. I just don't know what it does. That's why I'm here," I gestured around me to Bill's shop. "You know everything there is to know about everything. You know more than Grace! You've gotta know what this rock is."

Taking a deep breath, Bill crossed arms again. "But you won this in a Crossroads deal, honey," he sighed. "I don't know if this is anything to be excited about."

"Saying it like that makes it sound so much worse."

Billy pressed his lips together, making his salt-and-pepper mustache twitch. "This guy came to you?" he asked, bending down to look closer. "He just appeared?"

I watched Billy carefully, controlling my urge to pull him away again. "Yeah," I breathed. "I was going to get food and he came up behind me. Offered to have the shooting contest for my soul…" I shook my head, closing my eyes and cursing myself again for being so stupid. "Said I'd be his 'errand girl' if I lost."

Flicking his steel blue gaze to me, Bill narrowed his eyes. "He didn't want to take you to hell," he commented. "He would have kept you here?"

I nodded.

Whatever Billy was thinking, he held it from me and it would have pushed me over the edge if my phone hadn't started ringing. I pulled it out of my pocket and stared at it, willing it not to be my sister. When I saw Miguel's name on the caller ID, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you guys okay?" I asked, flipping open my phone and resting it on my shoulder.

Miguel answered immediately, "Yeah," he smiled. "We're getting on the road tonight to go after a mated pair. We'll wait for you and Grace to get back down here to go after the rest of the coven." He paused, munching on something, "You gonna make it back before she gets down here?"

I glanced at my watch again and sighed. "Probably not," I laughed nervously. "Knowing her, she'll take off from work early because she'll get excited to see you guys…" I glanced up at Billy again and shook my head. "You've gotta cover for me if I'm not back. I'm leaving in about two hours. You've gotta give me the time."

Miguel chuckled and I could tell he was lifting his eyebrows and doubting me. "I'll do my best, Lady Luck," he sighed. "But get your ass back down here."

I nodded and hung up, not even saying goodbye. "So, what is this?" I finally breathed. "Please tell me you know."

Billy shook his head slowly, "I don't know, Serra," he sighed. "I have never seen anything like this." He walked over to the stack of books that he had obviously pulled in preparation of my coming to see him. They were all books with 'Heaven' or 'Angelic' in the titles, which made me instantly suspicious.

"Wrong side, there, Billy," I commented, sliding my finger down the spines of the books. "Shouldn't you have pulled books about hell or something?"

Pressing his lips together again, Bill shrugged. "The grainy little picture you sent me earlier," he began, "showed scratches that looked amazingly similar to the language of the angels."

"Angels?" I made a face. "For real?"

"There are demons," Bill continued, flipping through the books. "So why shouldn't there be angels?"

"Yeah but," I shook my head. "I've never had to fight off an angel."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Grace

I prepped for work and kept forgetting things, leaving them all over the house. I was an anxious wreck, having a hard time shaking the feeling that something was wrong. I couldn't shake the dream I had about Serra, and even though I knew she was safe, I kept going back to the Crossroads Demon in my mind's eye. He had been so convincing, so ready to take my sister from me.

I wanted more than anything to get down to Georgia to see her face with my own eyes.

"Hey, Travis," I greeted after dialing one of the other servers from the diner. "How do you feel about getting another shift today?"

…

Serra

I was practically bouncing, watching Billy read through countless books on angels and their language, which I had learned was called Enochian. I didn't have the patience or stillness to concentrate long enough on actually reading any of the books myself; but kept glancing at the clock on the wall and itching to get back on the road.

"Billy," I pleaded. "I gotta go. There's no way Grace is gonna stay in Kansas any longer than she needs to, especially now that she's had that dream about the demon."

Bill clicked his tongue, not looking up from the yellowed pages. "Can you blame her?" he asked, turning the page carefully. "Her baby sister is off by herself and then she has one of her psychic visions about her?" Finally, he glanced up at me, staring over the top of his reading glasses. "Besides, you're proving her right, right now. You ain't where you should be and you _did_ make a deal."

"I made a _bet_," I argued. "There's a difference."

His eyebrow lifted doubtfully.

Running both of my hands through my hair, I groaned. "Yeah, okay, whatever," I sighed, spinning in place. "Will you keep the rock here? And promise not to say anything to Grace?"

"Keep it here?" he repeated, looking up at me again. "Serra, what am I supposed to do with it?"

I gestured to the black veil he had hanging from the back doorway of his shop. "You have a whole vault back there! It's all charmed and protected…there's gotta be room for it in a devil's trap or something!" I walked to the black curtain and raised my voice. "I can't take it with me. It's gotta be important and what if some other demon comes back looking for it?"

"Exactly," Bill argued. "What if they come here because the pulse is strong for them too?" He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "I'm no hunter, Serendipity. I don't have the ability to fight off any demons."

I took another deep breath, pushing away the feeling of panic that crept up the back of my spine. "I can't take it with me," I whined. "Grace will know! She'll probably be able to hear it!"

"Serra—"

"Billy please," I turned and stared at him, shaking my head. "I don't know what it is, and I don't know why I need to keep it safe, but I need to. There's got to be a place you can think of where it can stay until I can find a vault or something."

Slowly, Billy took off his glasses and stared at the book in his lap. "I've got a friend I can call, deals with stuff like this more often than I do," he sighed. "I'll see if I can get him to keep it until I can get a vault built. I've been meaning to get something like that made anyway. There's some shit back there that needs to be contained."

Launching myself at Billy, I wrapped my arms around him in a giant hug. "Thank you, thank you," I muttered into his shoulder. "What would I do without you?"

"Not make bets with Crossroads Demons?"

I laughed, "No, I'd get caught."

He chuckled in response and closed the book he had been holding, setting it gently on the counter. "Alright, alright, spitfire," Bill grinned. "Get back to Georgia before you get caught with your pants down."

Turning to the counter, I picked up my keys, but made a face. "Oh, shit," I whispered, closing my eyes. "About that."

As I spun back to make a face at Billy, he was already holding out a wad of cash, folded in half. I glanced down at the money and felt my eyes go wide. "What?" I breathed, "Are you serious?"

"You aren't gonna make it very far on an eighth of a tank and two bucks," he smiled. "Don't spend it all in one place."

Hugging him again fiercely, I squeezed my eyes shut, grateful that Bill stuck with us through the years after we lost Dad and Emery. "Thank you, Billy," I whispered.

"Any time, renegade," he murmured into my ear. "Maybe next time, you just come by to chat."

I pulled away and smiled. "I'll bring a case or two."

"Deal."

…

Billy

Approaching the stone that Serendipity had left behind, I took a deep breath, already knowing what it was. I put up a hell of a façade, but I knew what it was before she even walked into my shop. Staring at the leather satchel, I took a slow breath and opened the flap, staring at the deeply engraved markings.

Truman Browning, God rest his soul, knew long before anyone else that his girls would be special. Grace started to show her true colors before he was stupid enough to be killed by the Crossroads Demon that night, not so long ago, but Serra hadn't come into her own yet. Both of the Browning sisters would be angelic, we just weren't sure how much would end up showing through in Serra. The Brownings had made it a point for generations to keep angels in their lineage and I believed it was all coming to a head.

Serendipity was gifted with a weapon not because she practiced night and day, and not because she was dedicated to honing her skills as a hunter. I believed with every fiber of my being that Serra was a Warrior of Heaven, and the stone on my counter top confirmed what I already knew. That rock was what was known as a Weapons Stone. There were only seven known in existence, and as far as I knew, they all resided in Heaven.

I guess I had been wrong.

When Serra called me, telling me about a rock that she seemed bonded to, I knew I'd find the answers I needed in _Heavenly Hosts_, the book that Grace had tried to read a few years back, when Tru bought Serra's guns. Every answer Grace needed was in that book, right down to describing in detail what she was and the talents she would possess, but I kept my word to the girls' father. I would hold my tongue and let them find the answers themselves, when the time was right.

Flipping through the book while Serra was on her way to me, I read up on the Weapons Stone and discovered that Serra would be able to control it, manipulating it into making weapons seemingly out of nothing. As far as I understood, the triangular angel blades that every angel carried was made from metal created by the stones. Once a Stone pledged its loyalty to a specific Warrior of Heaven, it would only work for that Warrior for as long as he or she lived. Then, the Stone would be up for grabs again, sending out a pulse-type beacon to attract its next Warrior.

This was all so big; I could barely wrap my head around it.

Taking a deep breath, I watched Serra drive out of my parking lot and head back to a gas station, hoping she would beat her sister back to Georgia. I didn't see it happening, but as fast as Serra drove, she had a fighting chance.

I flipped open my phone and waited as the other end rang. Finally, I heard the hoarse, irritated voice on the other end, "Yeah?"

"Bobby Singer," I sighed, a smile finding my voice.

"Bill?" he replied. "How the hell are you?"

Rubbing my face, I took a deep breath, "I need a favor."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Serra

I hadn't slept in thirty hours. I was tired and I was dirty, and maybe a little delusional. All I really wanted to do was get back to the motel, take a shower, and sleep, but I knew once I got back, I would have to keep up my façade to Grace that I had been with Miguel the whole time.

Still two hours out from LaGrange, Georgia, I floored it through the early afternoon, doing everything I could to beat my sister to the Adaka'i boys. Flicking my eyes down to my gas gauge, I congratulated myself on filling up the two reserve tanks Dad had installed back when Grace had been driving my Acura. Even thinking ahead, I had gotten enough food for me to make the trip without stopping, provided I didn't have to stop to pee.

I only had to twice so far.

I had just turned the radio up to keep myself from falling asleep and suddenly, my phone was ringing. I reached over to the passenger seat, digging through my bag while keeping my eyes on the road as best I could. "Please let it not be Grace," I whispered, shaking my head. "Please let it not be Grace."

Just glancing down at my phone's caller ID set my already-taxed nerves on edge, but I closed my eyes and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Miguel, what's up?" I answered on the fourth ring. "Everything okay?"

"Your sister is here."

If I hadn't been driving, I would have just passed out. The pressure was just too much.

"What?" I whispered, shaking my head and releasing the gas pedal. I should just pull over and sleep. It was over.

Miguel sighed, "I didn't know she was so close," he whispered. "She called about two minutes ago and said she's about a half hour out."

"Why didn't she call me?"

"She thought you were with me," Miguel answered, muffled. He was probably rubbing his face out of frustration. "Talked to Diego because she didn't want to 'bug us'." He laughed ironically. "What do you want me to do?"

My mind raced as I floored the gas pedal again. I was only about an hour and fifty minutes out. "Stall her," I muttered. "We're still hunting the fangs. We split…" I searched for a story. "We split up to cover more ground. I got a hit on some news up in Dalton and I went to see what shakes loose."

"Dalton," Miguel repeated, memorizing our story. "How far is that?"

I was already shaking my head, trying to remember from the first time I drove down from Lawrence. That seemed like months ago. "I dunno, Miguel, you might have to look it up. Maybe three hours or so?"

"I'll check. How close are you?"

Licking my lips, I shook my head as tears forced their way into the corners of my eyes. I was just so tired. "I'm close. Almost two hours."

"Two hours?" Miguel gaped. "You're not close!"

"I am," I swallowed. "I will be there. Dalton. Three hours. Play for time, Miguel, or I swear to God—"

"Alright, alright," he soothed, trying to calm me down. "Concentrate. Don't die."

I hung up the phone and shook the fuzzy vision from my mind. There still might be a chance to pull this off.

…

Serra

I squealed to a stop next to Miguel's truck ninety minutes later. I threw the gear shift into park and closed my eyes, feeling a little light headed. I took a couple of deep breaths, steadying my nerves and organizing the story in my mind before I saw her. Grace was not someone you lied to, especially not to her face.

Miguel must have heard me pull up, because he opened the motel room door and stood in the doorway, blowing through pursed lips with wide eyes. Glancing back to my sister's car that sat proudly next to Diego's truck, I took a deep, calming breath. This was it.

"She got here about forty minutes ago," he prepped, walking up to greet me. "She's suspicious."

"Of course she is."

I didn't waste any more time with Miguel, and instead went to face my sister. I tried doing everything I could by emptying my mind and thinking of anything I could besides my bet with the demon and the stone that I left up with Billy. I thought of Dalton and vampires. I thought of the Southerners and sex with Miguel; coffee at daybreak and target practice…anything to distract my sister from following the rabbit hole that was my thought process.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, seeing her from across the room. "Thought you weren't coming until tonight?"

Grace grinned, seeing me walk through the door. "I got Travis to cover my shift," she approached me with her arms opened wide, expecting a hug.

Swallowing hard, I glanced down at the ugly brown carpet and focused my thoughts before I reached my sister. This was it.

I had already thought about putting a couple of layers on, thinking I could just avoid skin-to-skin contact all together, but it was close to ninety degrees outside and the humidity was out of control. There was no way I was going to wear anything that covered my arms.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," I sighed, feigning a smile and returned her hug. "You've missed out on some fangs."

Grace froze as she hugged me; the customary three seconds passed as she watched my thoughts sail through her mind. I had no control over what she could see, and I silently prayed there would be more interesting things to watch besides my bet with the Crossroads Demon or my secret trip to Deerhead.

She pulled away and held me by the shoulders, staring into my eyes for longer than I felt comfortable, but I held her gaze, nonetheless. "What?" I asked, trying to sound cocky, just like usual.

Taking a deep breath, Grace narrowed her eyes at me, "You look like hell," she commented quietly. "Maybe take a nap before you get yourself killed."

I almost laughed but held it together and nodded somberly. "Yeah," I agreed. "Yeah I know. The trip up to Dalton was hard, especially considering I didn't get much sleep the night before."

Grace pursed her lips and agreed wordlessly. "You smell, too," she made a face and backed away from me. "Go take a shower and take a nap, seriously."

"Yeah, alright," I agreed, stumbling on the rug in the entry way. I glanced at Miguel as I walked by, but he didn't acknowledge, probably just trying to hide the smile on his lips.

…

Grace

"Where has she been?" I turned to Miguel as soon as I heard the water turn on in the bathroom. "Because it sure as hell wasn't Dalton, Georgia."

Miguel stared at me, trying his best to come up with something that made sense without giving my sister away. I knew he wouldn't tell me the truth, but I also knew I would be able to see that he knew more than he let on.

"As far as I know, she went to Dalton," Miguel argued, holding out his hands. "Said there were some reports of attacks up there, so," I was already shaking my head at him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. He faded off, shaking his own head. "Dalton," he finally repeated, shrugging. "All I know is Dalton."

Catching him off guard, I reached out and touched his arm before he had a chance to duck away. Flashes flew through my mind, but none of them answered my questions about my sister's whereabouts. "Miguel," I cautioned. "What aren't you telling me?"

He was shaking his head slowly. "Grace," he sighed. "She's safe. She's here. What does it matter?"

"That was the wrong answer," I whispered, stepping away from him. Without another word, I slammed open the door to the bathroom, not caring that Miguel and Diego turned and evacuated the motel room before I had a chance to lecture them.

"Jesus!" Serra cried as I pounded into the bathroom. "Grace?"

"Where were you?" I asked, folding my arms and tilting my head. "Because I don't believe you were in Dalton." Serra was silent longer than I was comfortable, so I approached the shower curtain and pulled it open enough to see her face. "Serra," I prompted. "Where?"

She pressed her teeth together and rinsed the soap out of her eyes. "I went up to Deerhead," she explained finally. "Billy said he had some stuff to help hunt the vampires."

"And you drove fifteen hours to go and get it?" I narrowed my eyes. "Why didn't you just call me, and I would have picked it up before I came down?"

Serra shrugged halfheartedly, rolling her eyes. "I don't know!" she whined. "I'm young and impulsive and I don't think before I do things!"

I couldn't help but laugh at the expression on my sister's face. "Yeah, whatever," I sighed. "I'll find out one way or another. This just seems suspicious."

"It probably is!" Serra screeched.

"You know what?" I sighed, rubbing my eyes and trying not to laugh at my little sister. "Forget it. Just hurry up so you can sleep a few hours before we go after the last of the vampires. You're a mess."

"Okay!" Serra ripped the shower curtain closed again and I turned, closing the door to the bathroom and letting her finish her shower.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Serra

I was flying high on the idea that I had somehow tricked Grace into thinking that I was just too tired to function and made a stupid decision about Deerhead. It's not like I was lying about being there, I just had lied about why. I was hoping that there was enough to distract her from finding out that I had made a bet with a Crossroads Demon. Maybe we would get our asses kicked by the Southerners. That would bring the focus away from me and my secrets.

I made a face, shaking my head at the thought. No, that's a terrible idea too. Forget that.

I had taken a two hour nap and felt instantly better, and though I knew I wasn't working at one-hundred percent, I was definitely more prepared than I was when I got back from Deerhead. Opening the adjoining door between the motel rooms, I walked in to Grace and Miguel intensely discussing something I couldn't see. My sister turned and greeted me but turned back to the photo on the table.

"What's up?" I asked, rubbing my face.

Miguel pointed to the grainy photo on the table. "Diego pulled this surveillance photo from a convenient store this morning," he described. "That's the mated pair we've been chasing, but there are others with them that we've never seen before."

Tilting my head, I narrowed my eyes and approached Miguel and Grace. "What do you mean 'never seen before'?"

Shrugging, he sighed heavily, "I dunno. We've been tracking this coven of vamps for two weeks, but we've never seen these ones. They're either new or have been in hiding."

"They're turning people?" my mouth stayed open in surprise.

Grace swallowed hard. "Looks like," she agreed.

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, nodding and lifting my eyebrows. "Well, that bullshit ends tonight," I whispered. "We're going in hard, yeah?"

Grace nodded and nodded at the map. "The boys are going to get their hands on some dead-man's blood. We're going in today."

"We should be going in now," I reiterated. "Now, before they realize we're coming."

Taking a deep breath, Grace nodded, which I didn't expect. "We're going to head over and keep an eye on everyone. When the boys get back, we'll go in, no matter the time of day."

"Why can't we all just go together?"

Flicking her eyes at Miguel, Grace shrugged half-heartedly. "I guess we could, but I don't want to make a scene."

Right then and there, I dropped the sweats I had been wearing and marched over to the jeans laying in a crumple by the edge of the bed. With Miguel and Grace looking on, I pulled my jeans on, buttoned them and nodded. "Well," I began. "Let's go."

Grace was shaking her head with her eyes closed, but I didn't really know why. Turning to get my guns out of the other room, I heard Miguel chuckle, "She's tenacious."

"That's accurate," Grace answered.

I shoved my feet into my battle boots and tied the laces tightly, stuffing silver blades into the holsters that we had stitched inside many years ago. I could hear Grace getting packed too; she swung her shoulder holster on over her white tank, then covered it with a black flannel, and bent down to pull on her motorcycle boots. She slammed a clip of pure silver into The Judge and took a deep, calming breath. My sister was ready, which meant I was pumped.

We were finally going hunting.

…

Serra

We had been waiting patiently from varying points along the known vampire route for over an hour, and had only seen one or two vamps, mostly walking back and forth across the opening of a warehouse, where we knew they had kept most of their coven. It was mid-day, which made it obvious why we hadn't seen more fangs. They were still sleeping.

It was a perfect time to attack.

Santiago and Diego had brought a pretty good supply of dead-man's blood for us to use, but I was more interested in just putting them down with the silver ammo I was pumping. My sister stood near with an inhuman stillness about her, just as always before a hunt. She watched carefully, making decisions and judgments about how we were going to go about this, even though it wasn't our hunt. Bottom line: the Adaka'i boys had tried and failed to take down this coven, which was why we were here. We got shit done.

"Well?" Miguel asked, glancing to Grace as she breathed steadily. "What's the plan?"

"Same as we talked earlier. Go in hard and fast," she breathed. "Take no prisoners."

I bounced on the balls of my feet a few times, feeling the adrenaline hit my bloodstream. "Now?" I pleaded.

Grace took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Now," she agreed. "We split up. Some in the front, some in the back." She narrowed her eyes towards the warehouse from our vantage point on a hill, nestled in some trees. "Looks like there might be an exit point on the roof, too. We might wanna watch that."

I bounced some more, "Uh-huh. Yeah." I found myself bouncing again, "Whatever you say, boss."

"Serra," Grace's stern, quiet voice refocused me and forced me into stillness. "It's not just us, this time," she reminded me quietly. "You need to stay on point and watch the boys' flank."

I nodded, pressing my teeth together.

"You're batting clean-up, kiddo," she continued, facing the warehouse again. "We'll head in first, clear out a few and flush them into fighting. You need to make sure there are no runners."

I nodded again.

"Lead the target. They're faster than you think."

Allowing myself a wry grin, I winked at my sister. "Doubt me," I whispered.

Grace turned towards Miguel and Santiago. "We're ready when you are," she commented, unsheathing our father's large machete and clutching it at her side. I nodded enthusiastically next to her.

Santiago shook his head, "You're a little too excited," he commented.

"Are you kidding?" I laughed. "I live for this shit."

…

Grace

It always happens much faster than I think it will, but oddly enough, we never have a hard time keeping up. There were too many vamps to count, and they scattered like cockroaches with the lights on as soon as Miguel took his first shot. I had four down in a matter of seconds, but Serra was a machine. More times than not, she had the vampire I was aiming for down before I even braced to fire the shot.

The boys were holding their own, but they definitely struggled a bit. Miguel got pinned once or twice, but Serra bailed him out, taking the headshot and leaving Miguel stunned.

"You know," he sighed, wiping blood off his face as Serra turned and took another shot at a fang that was attacking me. "One of these days, you're gonna make me deaf, taking shots like that so near my face."

"I'm surprised you're worried about being deaf, not dead," Santi shook his head as he turned to stand with his back against the wall.

"I'm not gonna kill you," Serra rolled her eyes as she slammed another clip into her right hand Twin. She winked at Miguel. "I kinda like having you around." She puckered her lips and kissed the air. Chuckling, Miguel turned away and continued the fight.

The vampires were getting desperate, now, turning to fight instead of flee. A larger male took me on, swiping at me with his long talon-like claws. He hissed when I ducked out of the way, spinning and taking my last two shots towards his head. He was fast, though, and I missed by a good two inches. The slide of the Judge sprang forward, showing that I was out of bullets, and his scarred lips curled into an ugly grin.

More irritated than anything, I took a deep breath and sighed. "Serra?" I asked amid the chaos before I even bothered taking a step forward. I could feel the heat from the bullet as it whizzed silently past my cheek in imbedded itself deeply into the forehead of the vampire in front of me. With a satisfying thump, the vamp's head hit the floor after I swiped, using my father's machete to separate his head from his body.

I turned in time to see my baby sister smile at me. We nodded at each other, realizing that we had a good thing going. "Shall we?" I asked, raising my voice loud enough to be heard over the fighting.

"Let's!" Serra replied, smiling broadly.

I pivoted on my heel and brought up Dad's machete into a ready stance. I could feel Serra fall into step behind me as we turned and walked right down the middle of the warehouse. "Yes," I whispered. "Let's wrap this up."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Serra

I've always known Grace was special, and it wasn't because she was my big sister, and it wasn't because she taught me everything I knew. My sister was special because she trusted me more than anyone, without even a shadow of a doubt, and it showed as we made our way down the center of the vampire warehouse.

As she walked fifty yards ahead of me, I picked vampires off as they attacked her, putting a single lead bullet between their eyes. Grace wouldn't even flinch as she finished the job; decapitating them as they staggered, stunned by the shot long enough to lose a step or two. I knew we'd run out of silver pretty quickly, so this method was really the only one we were left with. I was more than comfortable with it, though. We were fast, accurate, and terrifying.

From across the warehouse, Miguel was up on the catwalk, freeing victims that looked close to death, but still had a pulse. The vampires had been bleeding their victims dry, storing their blood in containers at the bottom of the floor with their bodies hanging high enough for gravity to do the dirty work. I was working on a theory that the ones that were drained with enough life leftover were probably turned; bitten before they died completely. It didn't make much sense to me, though; it was just another mouth to feed in an already competitive monster race.

I loaded another clip and continued to follow Grace, but took out a vamp here and there that was getting too close to either Miguel or Santiago. They finished them with the silver blades they carried, and together, we all made a good team.

Turning to flirt with Miguel again, I winked, distracting myself away from my sister. By the time I turned back to Grace, the smile slid off of my face as I watched two ridiculously large male vampires grab her, spin her against the bigger of the two's body and hold her in place. The other forced the blades out of her hands, leaving her completely annoyed and without a weapon.

The warehouse was quieter now; the dead vampires littered the floor and made walking difficult. We had taken out nearly forty fangs, with probably the last two in Georgia standing in front of me, holding onto my sister. A slow burn began in my belly. I thumbed the safety of my guns, itching to pull the triggers of both at the same time, but the giant monsters were using my sister as a shield. It was nearly impossible to get a clear shot.

The scene looked too familiar. It wasn't long ago that Miguel had been in the same position as Grace, but then it had been a ghoul. If I had taken the shot then, we would have been saved the headache of a ghoul coming home to the motel with me and trying to seduce me into dying.

We had also done this once, but then it was when my guns were new, and the wraith had Grace in much the same position. How did this keep happening?

I narrowed my eyes at my sister, attempting to gauge her irritation and desperation. "Thought you were faster than that, Gracie," I sighed. "What gives?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, exasperation rolling off her in waves.

"Oh, look at you," the larger of the two vampires cooed, getting my attention. "Thinking you're so big and bad with them guns."

I didn't answer. I simply stared at my sister, pursed my lips, and raised my eyebrows, begging permission. I could see Grace's chest expand slightly as she took the biggest breath she was able, from beneath the fang's grip.

Everyone in the warehouse was watching as I took a step closer towards my sister, preparing myself. "I'm not so big with these guns," I began, taking a slow breath and another step. "But I'm pretty bad."

The vampire chuckled. It was an ugly, guttural sound that started way down, deep in his throat. "I'll give you some credit, where credit is due…" he glanced around, gesturing at all of the fallen vampires. "Your little band of merry men are better than mosta' the hunters out there. Never taken out an entire coven at once before."

"First time for everything," I muttered, keeping eye contact with Grace and taking another step.

"What do you think you're doing?" the smaller of the two huge vampires asked, watching my feet as I inched closer to his brother. "What, you think you're gonna—"

The sound of my guns drowned out the rest of his words as I shot him four times in rapid succession without breaking eye contact with Grace. Miguel and Santiago made the move like they were going to approach Grace and the giant brute of a vamp, but the larger fang held out one of his giant hands, still clutching my sister.

"Don't."

The boys froze as I took a tiny step, feigning losing my balance after taking those shots. The leader stared at me. "Ain't nothin' you can do to me from there, little girl," he murmured from behind Grace. Adjusting his position, he pulled himself closer to her back, using her shoulder as a shield to the rest of his face. "She's my ticket out of here."

"Go ahead, baby," I breathed. "Doubt me."

I gritted my teeth and watched as Grace squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the shots. I raised my guns and fired twice from each barrel. I watched the first melt its way through my sister's shoulder, and just as I planned, the vampire let go of Grace out of pure shock as she curled in pain around herself, exposing the fang's head. The other three of my bullets found their target immediately, digging deeply into the monster's forehead.

Grace hit her knees, holding her shoulder with the opposite hand as Miguel dashed towards the vampires on the floor and without hesitation, decapitated both of them.

Diego and Santiago stood in stunned silence as I jogged to my sister, kneeling in front of her. I really thought she'd be pissed, but when she glanced up at me, she started laughing.

"Hold shit, if Dad was alive," she hissed, falling to her hip, still clutching her shoulder. She laughed again, "If Dad was still alive, that would have killed him."

Suddenly, I was laughing too, sitting on the grated metal floor with my sister and using my flannel to slow the bleeding from her through and through bullet wound. I holstered my guns and nodded, sitting on my knees to keep the pressure on my sister's shoulder. "He would have had a stroke and dropped dead," I giggled. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

Grace sounded delirious, gasping for breath as she went almost hysterical laughing. "You fucking shot me," she breathed. "Again."

"This time it was on purpose," I whispered. "It's the shot I would have taken with Miguel and the ghoul, if you had let me."

Swallowing hard as the pain began to sink in, Grace licked her lips and looked a little light-headed; seriousness finally hitting her. "I know it is," she whispered, leaning over her wound and using her other hand to hold herself upright. "I should have let you take it."

"No," I was shaking my head, "you were right. This is awful. What if I hadn't gotten you in the shoulder? I could have killed you, Grace." I shook my head at my own stupidity. "I shouldn't have taken the shot."

Grace looked up at me, her blue eyes a little glassy. "That is exactly why I'm glad you did."

"Are you gonna pass out?" I asked, holding out my arms to my sister. "You're not making any sense."

Smiling weakly, Grace chuckled. "You finally learned there's other ways to solve the problem. It just took shooting me again to realize it." She shook her head, grinning like an idiot. "I'm a damn good teacher."

"Jesus, you're losing too much blood. You're cracked."

With that, Grace took a slow, deep breath and held her shoulder as Santiago helped her to her feet. "Take me to the hospital, Santi," she grinned. "I need to get patched up. I've got class on Monday."


	23. Chapter 23

::Happy Winter Holidays, everyone! Hope this finds you warm and safe. This chapter wraps up _Doubt_ and I hope you enjoyed it. I'm gonna be honest with you; I am running low on material and need to catch up before I start posting anything else new. I have wrapped a Winchester Ranch story, and am working on something a little different. You'll have to wait and see, so please be patient with me! Please let me know what you thought of _Doubt_ by writing a review! Thank you so much for sticking with me.

love and internetty hugs

the girl with the dinosaur tattoo::

...

...

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Chapter 23

Serra

"She's fine, she didn't even need surgery," I explained to Billy over the phone. "Hunting accident."

Billy laughed at the irony of my statement. "And they didn't ask any other questions?"

"Nope," I answered, flicking my eyes to the nurses that milled around me in the ER. "They're probably enough dipshits around here that get shot on accident that it didn't seem that out of the ordinary."

Laughing again, Billy took a deep breath. "Well, I'm glad she's okay and I'm glad y'all got to take care of the coven."

I nodded, though Billy couldn't hear me as I searched for the right words. "Yeah," I stalled. "Me too." The truth was, I hadn't even thought of the vampires since we brought Grace to the hospital. My mind was back to the stone and my wager with the Crossroads. "Look, Bill," I began. "The whole thing with the stone and the demon…" I sighed, trying to push through. "I can't ever, ever let Grace find out about that. Like, ever."

"I'll keep my big mouth shut," Billy replied. "Wouldn't make much sense to call Grace anyway."

"No," I shook my head. "Like, I'm never even going to think about it again. I am pushing all of that from my mind and just pretending none of it ever happened. It was all too close."

Billy paused, taking a breath and mulling the words over in his mind. "I agree wholeheartedly, renegade, but lying to your sister seems like it might end up biting you in the ass, later."

"If that's the case, it'll be way later and hopefully we'll be old enough that it won't matter anymore."

"Whatever you say, kiddo," he replied. "I'll keep it safe here, anyway. A friend taught me how to make a vault."

"You're the best, Billy," I answered and glanced over to where Santiago and Miguel were waiting. "I'll talk to you soon, alright?" I wrapped up the conversation, especially now that I was being watched. "I'll update you on Grace in a couple of days."

"I'll be here, kiddo."

…

Serra

As we waved to the boys after dropping us back at the motel for our cars, Grace leaned on her red hatchback and rubbed the bandages on her shoulder before glancing over at me. I could feel the weight of my secret in the pit of my stomach, but I did what I could to force it from my mind. I had convinced myself that after this hunt, I could forget it ever happened.

Grace took a deep breath and stared out into the field, watching the sun sink lower onto the horizon. "You did good out there, kiddo," she murmured. "You're a damn good shot."

I smiled, shaking my head. "I should be," I retorted. "I practice enough."

She smiled and nodded slowly, glancing down at her boots. My sister was never quiet for this long without a long conversation coming, so I braced myself, thinking that somehow, she had read my mind about the deal and I was about to get it.

"Serra," Grace began, "I know you miss Daddy."

The sentence caught me off guard and I felt myself whip my head around to face her, completely confused. "Huh?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I know you, Sere," she continued. "After…all of it, Daddy and the demon, the running away to Miguel and Santi, throwing yourself into hunting or practicing twenty-four-seven," Grace turned to face me and tilted her head. "It's all because Dad left us. You have this deep-seeded desire to be a better hunter than he ever was, and trust me, kid, you're there."

I could feel my eyebrows furrow as I listened to my sister.

"Something's gotta give, though, Lucky," Grace sighed, peeling the wrapper from a piece of gum from her pocket. "I can't lead a double life full time anymore. It's either hunting or school and work. I can't do both." She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "And I can't float you by myself anymore."

"So what are you saying?"

Grace turned back to the horizon and took a deep breath in her nose as she chewed her gum. "I'm saying that we either hunt and hustle full time, or we work and go to school full time."

I stared at my sister, knowing that this was a decision I wasn't ready to make. At the same time, I knew that if I didn't make some kind of declaration right now, Grace's faith in me would falter and she would feel abandoned and alone. I couldn't do that to her.

"What if something comes too close to home?" I asked, testing the waters.

"Then you load up those guns and take care of business," Grace replied, shrugging with her good shoulder. "But it has to be in-state, and over the weekend."

"What if the boys need us?"

Grace clicked her gum, popping the tiny bubble she blew. "We won't leave Santi and Miguel to fight alone."

I took a few breaths, watching the field as a flock of bats took to the evening sky. "We're just so good at what we do, Gracie. I feel like we're throwing it all away."

"Keep practicing as a hobby, Serra," she sighed. "That's fine. Make a habit of going to the range, not the fields with the tree stump." She shrugged again, "Just earn enough money on your own to pay for your own bullets."

"I pour my own bullets."

"Then make enough money to buy your own supplies."

I laughed and nodded. "Deal," I whispered. I pulled out the piece of gum Grace had given me earlier from my pocket and unwrapped it, shoving it into my mouth. As I pushed the paper wrapping back into my jeans, I felt the bullet slug from Grace's hip from all those years ago. Smiling, I glanced up to my big sister. "It's a good thing I'm such a good shot," I teased. "You know that way none of my rounds go to waste."

Grace laughed and stood from leaning on the hood of her car, pulling the keys from her pocket. "Don't get cocky," she called, getting into the driver's seat. "And try to keep up."

Grinning as I dived for my own seat, I started my car and peeled out, chasing after my sister as she burned rubber down the highway.


End file.
